


La Dame D'Arno (Arno's Lady)

by ReclessAbandon



Series: Assassin's Creed Unity [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Arno's Lady, F/M, Family, La Dame d'Arno, Newcomer, OC overload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-01-27 04:07:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 51
Words: 170,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12573348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReclessAbandon/pseuds/ReclessAbandon
Summary: Upon meeting the new recruit, who happens to be a girl, Arno believed at first glance that she was another Elise. But as she progresses her status in the Brotherhood, he sooner realizes that she was far more different. And little by little, they begin to see each other differently more than just fellow Assassins and they became immensely inseparable.





	1. Moving On

**Arno's POV ******

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It's been two years since Elise died and I frequently visit her tomb and replace the flowers if given the chance but priorities never stop but somehow I need to make a way to at least see her. Usually, the Council would give me such strenuous missions that I needed my brothers to join me and gladly they would go with me. If I would look for them, they would be lounging by the shore of the river or maybe sitting in the boat with their legs suspended between the water and the wood. But today I have the entire day to myself, so I decided to check on my Brothers and I found them in the common quarters.

Before I could even show myself in the open doorway of the quarters, there Octavien, Siegfried, and Felix were chatting to each other like a bunch of little boys. Well, between the four of us I am the second oldest followed by Felix—Octavien would be the eldest in our little group—while Siegfried comes to be the youngest.

What I like about these three buffoons is that although we are different based on our expertise, we're still Brothers no matter. Octavien is very lethal with any long weapon, I'm pretty skilled with the sword, Felix is handy with a rifle and lastly Siegfried—although a little bit skinny than the others at his age—he's skilled with a heavy weapon preferably an axe.

"Bonjour gentlemen. So, anything entertaining for today?" I said making an entrance to the quarters.

"We should get a little bit of sunshine, Arno." Octavien.

"Let's go kill extremists!" Felix declared as he threw his fist in the air and Siegfried agreed with this statement. What would I expect from the young?

"Yes, and get caught by the police in the middle of a skirmish." I contradicted the two younglings.

"Of course we'll vanish out of sight before they could even spot us." Siegfried.

"Then I'll push you off from the bridge to the river." I joked and we all laughed.

More usual men's talk and several bad and good puns and jokes later, it looked like they decided to stay within the sanctum for now indirectly because they barely suggested anything good to do for us to do today.

Since they aren't leaving yet, I left first after dismissing myself properly then headed for the cemetery where monsieur Francois and Elise are buried. Times like these, I don't fancy going out on the streets wearing my Master Assassin robes—I'd very much prefer my old original robes.

As I got out of the sanctuary, I walked on the street casually but with my hood of course and then I snuck myself into some flower garden and then searched for flowers for Elise and her father Francois. Going out casually from the gate would be too obvious that I stole flowers from a prominent home so I scaled the wall adjacent to the garden with the bouquet of flowers in my mouth since I needed both hands and feet to climb properly and then went to the cemetery via rooftops.

I didn't care whether the street was crowded with the usual folk, they wouldn't even care anyway—either too depressed or just didn't bother at all, good that's how I wanted it or else they'd be brewing trouble.

The moment I landed and faced up, I was already at the cemetery gates. Coincidentally, the afternoon sun was pooling its light on the two de la Serre headstones as if the sun was saving me the trouble of finding the graves. No matter, I knew where the gravestones are even if I'm blindfolded.

I split the bouquet for monsieur Francois and Elise and placed them nicely on the foot of the stones. Sitting down between them, I don't know which to face first.

"Elise…" I muttered to the stone but just really to myself. "It's me—again. Perhaps you are getting tired of me visiting you almost every hour of the day. I know you like being less given attention but you always did love the chase."

I suddenly remembered her in her elegant black dress when she came back in Versailles after staying abroad. I snuck myself in with monsieur Francois's coats and breeches and I am rewarded with a chase to a desolate room.

Oh, Elise… Wherever you are, I know that you know how much I miss you so.

But lamenting would take me to nowhere.

I had little words for her father because even if he acted so much like a father to me after my own father got murdered I am forever ashamed of my fault of not getting to him soon enough because if I was there that night then I would have saved him from getting stabbed with a Templar pin… one of Germain's silversmith-crafted Templar pin to be exact. Even in death, I can't last to look at his gravestone. Just the look of his name gives me the shudder in my spine. But even if it is already justified, there will always be that particular scar.

I stood up from my session of lamenting and then walked out of the cemetery and while I'm not yet that far from the cemetery I hear the angry curses of men—and a little from women—and then the clashing of swords. Another street skirmish, no doubt.

I was quite surprised to see only one woman fighting in the skirmish while her companions were men. What impressed me more is that she was fighting off two extremists at once while her male companions were fighting off one extremist each. She wielded a sword with her right and a pistol in her left and she would make use of the hard wingtip of her boots as well—at the crotch.

Running towards them in their aid when I saw the incoming troop of four—two of them were the brutes with axes—I saw little of her. I wanted to observe her more because of her forms but I focused much more on our mutual enemies. I needed to do that anyway.

Just when we thought that it was over, I found a sniper aimed at her and it seemed like he's already loaded his rifle and I became even with him when I killed him with a Phantom Blade—in the head.

The mysterious mademoiselle and her company left without notice but within my midst, I knew I heard a faint saying of "Merci" and it was a lady's voice so I would just like to assume that it might be her although not in that charming tone like an ordinary lady would, but she talked like it was casual with no hint of flirtation at all.

Scaling walls again to avoid any sign of detection, I walked my way on rooftops until I realized that I was already near the Notre Dame. The huge bells crashed like thunder in their usual tone, pigeons fluttered away and then I fished for my father's pocketwatch from the pocket of my coat…

Same time. Never changed.

The needle stagnantly ticking at the same point.

I will return when this hand reaches this point. The voice of my father instructing me that rang in my head.

I have to admit… I have a bad knack of ruining things.

I returned to the Sanctuary and found one fellow Assassin leaning against the concrete walls just before reaching the grand hall.

I stopped next to him and noticed something…

"Where are they?" I asked him.

"They went out."

"Without me?"

"Every man for himself, Arno."

"Well, where did they go?"

He shrugged and then rolled his eyeballs up as if to think where the boys could possibly be. It took him a moment and then, "Well, I overheard them mentioning going to Arsenal. They were to eradicate a faction of extremists and Templars there."

"Was that an order issued for them?"

"Who knows? Siegfried talked like it was everyday leisure."

"So obviously it wasn't an issued order." I mumbled to myself but the Assassin heard it.

"See for yourself if our Brothers are still there." That was no insulting comment, it was just a simple statement.

I left abruptly and then headed for Arsenal. Well, I ran out from the Sanctuary up to the city proper and thankfully, I gained momentum and clung onto a wall agilely that I felt like a cat. I climbed up and then headed for the direction that leads to Arsenal.

I sure hope that they're still there. Who knows? Maybe they underestimated that faction and it later called for more reinforcements. Maybe that way I can still have some fun for myself with my brothers.

Upon reaching Arsenal with an exhausted pair of lungs, I spotted Felix standing on a balcony near the area of fighting—apparently, he must have self-stationed himself there, after killing an enemy sniper. Of course. It's common sense.

I joined the two others as well, cutting myself in by blocking the incoming enemy sword with mine.

"Well, it sure is great to see you here, Brother!" Octavien exclaims as he laughed.

"Glad I could cut in!" I joked back despite the conflict the four of us are in—even if the third of the troop is at a distance.

"Of course! Did you really think we'll leave you out of the fun?" Felix says as he swings his axe and heavily plugged it into the back of a bomber.

"It looked like it!" I exclaimed both jokingly and sarcastically because literally did anyway.

But that's what brothers do.

Turns out this wave that I cut myself in was just the very first one and now that we've drawn so much attention both extremists and police joined into the second batch and so we had all the fun.

Look at the bodies that we get to loot!

Even if it's immoral… It's one of the things we need to do in order to sustain ourselves. It's survival of the fittest.

Siegfried popped a smoke bomb and smooth as snakes we killed every single one of them while the fog is still thick, however, Felix wasn't shooting inside the smoke, he was shooting the enemies outside the smoke.

As the smoke clears, we looked around with heads down checking if we missed one and we looked up and saw nobody but frightened-as-hell civilians. One newsman stopped barking the news when he saw the double-wave carnage he and the other citizen witnessed.

"Hey look, some are squirming." Octavien remarks.

"Should we end their miseries?" I asked him because most of them were suffering severe blows from our weapons.

"I suggest yes!" Siegfried exclaims as he planted his boot on the waist of his axe victim and tried to pull his axe out from the poor corpse as if it was the legendary bedtime story of the sword in the stone and once he disgustingly removed his axe from his victim, thick drops of dark red dripped from the wedge and then he sighed of relief as if he was a farmer after sickling so many crops after a hard day's work. Ever the comical Siegfried.

"Tell Felix to come down here," I ordered Siegfried. "Or else he'll lose the good loot."

Although he did not respond to me, in my peripheral vision I saw him turn around to face Felix from his direction and wave him away to come here in our area. Octavien and I started looting the men from the first faction and then the next ones. Siegfried and Felix followed as they looted the men they fancied. We got more delighted if we got ammunition from these men.

"What do you propose on disposing of these men, Octavien?" I asked after looting my final man.

"Burn them."

"Someone should get a cart." Siegfried suggests.

"I'll get that cart." I volunteered and then went away to get a spare cart we can borrow.

A few minutes later, I arrived back with a cart and then we stacked the bodies and luckily the cart I got had a tattered canopy that we can use to cover the bodies.

"How, pray tell, are we going to burn these?" Felix.

At least one of us should have looted at least a small pouch of gunpowder to burn. If we needed light, then we could just use a cherry bomb—we just needed an explosive.

Octavien then searched his pockets from his breeches and coat until he produced a pouch of gunpowder from his robe pocket. He carefully made a trail of gunpowder so that the bodies wouldn't explode when we're at the closest possible proximity or else we'd be joining them in ashes.

Siegfried volunteered to toss the cherry bomb at the trail when the sparks touched the tip of the trail it slithered quickly to the bodies and like mischievous little boys…

"Run!" Octavien laughed as he attempts to push the four of us away from the bodies before it crackles into an inferno.

We stumbled when we all heard the fire and then we tossed and turned to watch what we did back there and we were laughing like troublemaking quadruplets.

"Come on, let's go back before one or two of our fellow brothers find us fooling around." Octavien snickers.

"At least I know who to blame first!" Felix.

"It's the eldest brother's responsibility to watch over the well-being of his brothers!" I mocked an authoritative voice as I threw my arms on my brothers.

"Last one to scale is the one to answer to the Council!" Octavien declared as he sprinted away from us to get a headstart but we were faster than that.

We temporarily split up to cover our tracks, that way they'll have a hard time tracking us down because they don't know which one to find first among the four of us. I saw Octavien hide in a hay bale just before we could reach the bridge and then Siegfried and Felix went underneath the bridge while I kept running to a rooftop.


	2. The Newcomer

As the police sooner gave up on searching the four troublemaking hooded men, Octavien regrouped with the two young ones and then searched for Arno.

"I saw him go straight—must've hidden on a rooftop." Siegfried suggested.

"Come on then." Octavien taps Siegfried's shoulder and then the three of them went for the direction where Arno was hiding.

Conveniently, they found their brother already descending from the rooftop as he grabs on beams and then slides downwards and smoothly lands on a crouch.

"Well, that was fun." Arno remarks in his sarcastic tone.

"Alright then, that's a little bit enough for now." Felix.

"Should we be getting back to the Sanctuary now?" Octavien.

"Let's." Arno.

The four of them slightly split up again in order to find their own climbing spots and it almost felt like a race against each other because Arno began to sprint fast towards the direction of the Brotherhood's sanctum.

"Are you challenging us, Brother?!" Octavien booms as he sped on the rooftop very agilely, he was referring to Arno who was almost side by side with him.

"I'd like to think so!" Arno.

**Arno's POV ******

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I and Octavien raced our way on rooftops towards our home and then we reached the river under the bridge in the district. As we slid down on the inclined wall adjacent to the entryway of the tunnel, Octavien and I gasped for breath as we waited for Siegfried and Felix.

"Fair contest, Brother." I panted.

"You don't say." Octavien gasps. "Where are the two?"

"They're coming, no doubt."

We sat by the shore of the river near the boat and then finally the two arrived, they arrived, in the same way that Octavien and I got here—gasping for breath and collecting their composure.

"What route did you two use?" Octavien.

Felix lousily pointed the farther direction of the other side of the river and then slumped to the ground to reclaim his breath.

"Did you come across a run-in?" I asked them when I noticed a stripe of grime on Felix's cheek and neck.

"Well… if you would call it that way. Also, I looted some extremists—some of them preferred to take it the hard way." Siegfried.

"Of course…" Octavien mumbled.

Two Assassins came out from the entryway of the tunnel leading to the Sanctuary and they both had those looks in their eyes that I just can't tell what. They nodded at us—indicating that we go inside—and so we followed the two of them.

As we got into the secure stone walls of the Sanctuary, one of our escorts suddenly stopped in their pace and turned around to face us with those tipped eyebrows.

"The Council would like to see you, Arno. Alone." He emphasized that last word.

"Are we in trouble again?" Siegfried.

"We can never tell, boy." The second Assassin replied. He clapped Siegfried's shoulder and then the three of them dismissed themselves and probably retired to the quarters again while I'm just here being escorted by two slightly-intimidating Assassins.

"Well, if we aren't in trouble—does this mean I am in the one in trouble here then?" I asked to either two of them.

The one on my right glanced over his shoulder, "Not exactly."

And then we continued walking until we reached the Central Grand Hall of the Council—the place where Pierre first took me to initiate myself into an Assassin. I faced Quemar, Trenet, and Beylier as they stood there by the railings of the balcony.

"You summoned me, Mentors?" I asked in a normal tone of voice.

"Yes, we did, Arno." Trenet replied.

"What for, exactly?"

"Some of us have seen the four of you causing trouble again." Trenet.

"I wasn't there in the first moment of the attack." I asserted.

"But you did interfere, did you not? The four of you burned the bodies in a single stack in front of the citizens and even caused some policemen to come after you." Quemar, without the tone of aggression in him, as if he wasn't against with what the four of us did outside the walls of the Sanctuary.

I sighed in defeat and waited for the three of them have their deliberation. I was expecting a suspension of duties because I have already been exiled before… I pray that doesn't happen again.

"Arno, I can't believe I am saying this but we are letting you escape this little trouble of yours—but make sure that it doesn't happen again and go tell your brothers of this." Trenet.

I realized that I was grinning and then I nodded as politely as I could amidst the excitement I am feeling right now and then I directly went to my brothers who were in the office reading scrolls and other documents.

"Well?" Felix was the first one to notice me arrive in the office.

"Surprisingly, they didn't sentence me to suspension although they gave us a warning about doing what we did out there." I replied.

Felix shrugged as he continued studying the scrolls. I turned around to descend the small set of stairs until I was stopped by Siegfried.

"Where are you going this time, brother?" Siegfried.

"Uh, I think I should pay Eugene and Lapparent a visit." I said and then he returned to his work on the desk.

To be honest, I wasn't really going to the prison to visit those two, I just wanted to take a stroll for myself and see what I can find to entertain myself. I decided to go to Marais and look for some extremists to kill, nowadays I see those men in red coats and suits and trousers harassing innocent people and robbing them of their coin and won't go without a fight—it's happening as if it were a daily basis and I found it pathetic.

In one of the main streets of Marais, there were extremists who had those fancy hats—they were the ones who usually carried smoke bombs—and at least a single swordsman. I kept a close eye on them and then they were about to pass by a small band of rebels until it looked like the one extremist swordsman shoved one of the rebels. Arrogant these extremists are, they don't know any better than a dog with no training. Well, they're much worse than an untrained mutt.

Just on the building facing the one where this little fight was beginning to worsen, another set of rebels were present although they were standing there incognito—it looked like they were waiting for the right moment to attack, they were relying on their instinct. I decided to watch and standby for a little while and see if this does really get out of hand. Not a moment longer, both parties began dueling off and then I noticed one female rebel wielding a sword and a gun with such remarkable and unusual skill eradicate so many duelists. I saw her kill one swordsman with her sword and a sniper from a balcony at her two o' clock direction with her pistol and she brutally dismembered a charging swordsman's neck from its proper place in the spine, it was sadistically beautiful but they were clearly inferior and their manpower would be futile with just them and I just had to join in because the rebels are becoming outnumbered—the ones with the lances and the fat ones with those humongous axes began coming in and possibly there could be snipers from one of the house balconies.

Blood flooded the streets. Killing incoming enemies with my Phantom Blade helped but it helped just a little. Brute force was required by the rebels to be equal in the duel with the enemies and I did the best I can to help them. Not a minute later, police interfered and mistook the rebels as the ones who started and worsened the encounter but the police would kill both parties of the rebels and the duelists… even me for instance.

"Celestine!" one rebel screamed and then I heard a gunshot. I didn't see what happened because I was too busy taking care of two swordsmen and I killed the bomber before he could even toss out a smoke bomb and crack it open on the cobblestone road.

A loud slash of the sword to human flesh was a few centimeters away from me until I turned around and found the woman—the very same woman I saw earlier this morning—with blood caking almost her entire self especially by her bare neck, the sleeves of her blouse and droplets on her face. She cut down an extremist that was about to hack me in the back and we exchanged glances at each other, I was gawking with a face of disbelief that I almost got killed and wonderment because I was saved—on the other hand, she shot a straight face at me as if it wasn't self-gratifying to save a fellowman from getting chopped off at his back until she wiped off the droplet of blood from her lip with a cleaner part of her sleeve, she bent down a little and turned her sword at an angle to have both sides cleaned by wiping off extremist blood on the clothes of a dead extremist.

Just a few minutes ago I was fighting off with violent and bloodthirsty rebels and now I am surrounded by thankful and humble fellow Frenchmen with their hands together and imploring their thanks to me because of my aid for them as they make slight nods and bows. I returned their gestures with a non-verbal "You're welcome" and then I noticed the particular young lady kneeling down by the side of a certain extremist—who was still alive but wriggling in agonizing pain from his wounds—and she was searching his trouser and coat pockets.

"Be still!" she punched him in the jaw harshly.

She must have really held a grudge against that one, I presume. I thought as I watched her work.

She continued searching until she fished out a silver locket from his coat's inner pocket and as she stood up, she looked at him with an expression that I cannot tell whether it be pity, apathy, hate, anger or mercy. The duelist exerted so much effort to put his hands in a surrendering manner because he saw her point her pistol at him straight in the face.

"You expect me to show you mercy after pulling off my mother's necklace and managed to molest my cousin?" she says in dark sarcasm while smirking. "I knew I'd remember you. Thankfully, I looted this back. Now, what am I going to do with you?"

"P-Please…" he stutters ever so weakly, "I… I was forced… Believe me." he wretched at the last part.

She pulled her gun away and stored it to her holster but then I noticed her hands—after putting her gun to its holster—going to the hilt of her sword and within a split second, she executed the molester by plunging her sword to his wound at his neck.

"Foolish bastard. How can you be forced when you were enjoying what you were doing?" I heard her mutter and then I watched her return to her troop.

With her hair tied up, perhaps the only parts of her touched by blood were her clothes, face, and neck and then she regrouped with her companions and then she vanished.

I returned to the Café Theatre and then went to my room. The maid must have overdone her duties because the letters that I recently read and put on the desk were already tucked in the drawers, the chairs were straightened in position while the firewood looked new. I didn't bother anymore and threw myself on the bed because it was entirely exhausting.

For three days after that I managed to stay out of trouble and went on to do some investigating for Lapparent—really this time—and then I rested myself from all the efforts on the fourth day and on that morning, I was awakened by Siegfried vigorously shaking me on my shoulder. He was already dressed in his Assassin garments and he seemed excited about something.

"Get up, Arno! Hurry up!" and like a toddler, he continued to shake me.

"Alright, alright… Wow, you're early. What's the matter this time, Siegfried?" I slowly and lazily sat up while rubbing my itching bloodshot eyes.

"Just get your clothes on and go to the Sanctuary immediately! We'll see you there!" he immediately jumped off my bed and ran out of my bedroom.

I did some stretches that gave me relief when I felt my joints and limbs snap and pop, I got out of my bed and washed my face and then tied my hair as usual before dressing up. I tried to run carefully towards the passage within the mansion that directly leads me to the first corridor of the Sanctuary. I walked on and on until I found my brothers leaning by the walls of the room.

"What are you three doing here?" I asked, thinking that Siegfried meant that the four of us were summoned altogether.

Octavien nodded in the direction of the Grand Hall and then he slowly showed off a smirk underneath the shade of his hood.

"See for yourself…" Felix mumbles.

I arrived at the entrance of the Grand Hall and three more Assassins were waiting by the entrance, just a step closer to reaching the hall itself, they parted to give way for me until I saw a girl with long dark wavy hair falling to her waist and she was wearing a puffy-sleeved blouse, trousers and boots—much like the way Elise dresses up—but she had her back turned to me and it seems that she looking up at the Council.

"Ahh, Arno, glad you could make it." Guillaume greets.

I didn't respond yet I approached the hall but I kept my distance from the girl.

"Who is this, may I ask?" I turned my head to the girl who still isn't revealing her face to me.

"This is Celestine Sauveterre. She will be joining the Brotherhood." Trenet responds.

Celestine? Now, why does that name sound familiar?

As she turns around to face me… By God! She's almost the spitting image of Elise! Except that her hair is dark brown but would show shiny bronze strands when exposed to light because there were candelabras standing near us. And her eyes were dark brown too. It's evident that she must have been groomed before she was brought here but…

"How did you—?"

"Those three found her in the streets injured. She was the only one in her small faction to survive, they were just four against three lance-wielders and a brute with an axe." Quemar nodded at those three Assassins who were standing outside the Hall.

"From what we heard from her rescuers is that her combat is quite unique." Guillaume.

Celestine was silent and didn't give any remark.

"How did she survive?" I asked out of the blue.

"She threw out a smoke bomb and then cut them down." One of the three Assassins replied suddenly.

"She has tactics." Guillaume says, rather impressed.

"Go on then, child. Drink." Trenet.

"Why am I still here then?" I asked curtly before Celestine could even step a foot.

"Primarily, we would notify you of her just as we notified your brothers. She may be of your use eventually—once she's overcome the Initiation." Trenet.

"I think you doubt of my capability a little too much, Madame Trenet."

I saw Trenet smile—I don't know whether it was sarcastic or maybe because she was impressed with Celestine's remark.

Taking in the drink, she began to stumble groggily—the same way I felt when I took a sip of that horrid drink. I never even knew what was in that. For her, it must have taken ages to overcome whatever's inside her mind but for us—especially me—it was only a matter of long minutes.

When she's finally conquered her inner self, she knelt down to the marble ground and sweat trickled down like beads of dew on her neck and temples. I slowly approached her and offered her a hand and she gratefully accepted it.

"Alright, up we get." I muttered to her in a friendly manner and I was rewarded with a soft chuckle.

"Celestine Sauveterre, here from this day forth we hereby declare you an Assassin of the Brotherhood of Paris," Trenet spoke in her regal and authoritative voice. "Go and serve the light."


	3. Getting to Know

**Arno's POV ******

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She slowly regained her stance after the drink and the hallucinations once she took in the terrible wine, she slowly made her way out of the Grand Hall and then tried to sit down for a while even if it's the floor.

"Are you alright?" I asked as she began to pant.

"Almost getting alright." She mumbled weakly.

"Don't worry, that's how I felt the first time. I'm Arno."

"Celestine."

"I know—it's a unique name. I know I've seen you before, I just can't quite name it."

"You helped us win over the extremists a few days ago."

"That's right." I can hear myself stammering after those words.

"You did it twice." She blurts firmly and I was cut off. "You honestly thought that I didn't see you four days ago?"

"You were the one who killed the extremist behind me."

"Exactly."

"Merci."

"You're welcome." She stood up carefully while I abruptly stood to help her walk if she still felt groggy.

We walked to the corridors and then met with my brothers who were buying from the merchant.

"Ahh, there you are! Looks like you've already met the new recruit." Octavien.

"Yeah, she's a fine one, I'll say." Siegfried.

"Do you know her name already, Arno?" Felix.

"Yes, it's Celestine."

"Hello again." She softly says to the three of them. Apparently, these three got there first before I could formally meet her.

"Well, I must bring her to the mansion where she can rest. I think they gave her the worse wine. Poor dear." I said as I help her walk properly.

I escorted her to the mansion where she can comfortably rest there, besides, there were too many rooms in there so at least make use of one of them.

"Are you sure the madam managing this house won't complain about you bringing in a stranger?"

"You're no stranger now, you're one of us now—an Assassin. And make yourself at home. This mansion is your new home now."

"Thank you." she smiles sweetly.

"Get some rest before you do anything dangerous." I blurted and she chuckled again.

For the entire afternoon, she was inside her room and every minute I would ask the maid how she's doing and she would answer "She's quite alright". So since it was that way, I made myself busy by cooperating with fellow Assassins and accomplishing a few missions with them—I occupied my time in the afternoon doing those missions.

Suddenly I realized that Celestine doesn't have Assassin robes yet—she came in here with the usual outfit of a sleeved blouse and a pair of trousers while overlooking from a rooftop with a fellow brother he surprised me when he started talking about the "new one". We were scanning the crowd to save an associate with the Assassins from the guillotine.

"So, I guess you heard about the new one they recruited?"

"Yes, I have."

"Can you imagine? It's been a while since we had—"

"A female Assassin?" I blurted.

He looked at, I can't tell what was his full expression because he had a cover from nose to mouth. "Yes, that's right."

"I was her escort from the Council."

"Where is she now?"

"In the mansion at Café Theatre."

"Oh, well, better get a move on, brother."

We first got rid of the snipers stationed on the roofs and we took some out from the balconies as well using Phantom Blades—well, I was the only one with a Phantom Blade—and then we later took out the ones on the ground.

"Arno, get the executioner first!"

"I'm going, I'm going!"

I shot the executioner and then consecutively the guards on the guillotine's platform as well, leaving the associate alive and the crowd in awe. Just when the guards were about to seize the convicted associate again, I and my companion then attacked them by air-assassinating them and I gunned the incoming ones down—the brute ones, however, needed to be shot down twice in the torso unless if I'm lucky enough to hit them in the head.

"Go!" I alerted the associate and then he vanished into the streets, within the crowd.

"Come on, Arno!" apparently this companion of mine seems to be just as young as Siegfried.

As we sped off, we headed back to the Sanctuary and gladly the guards have lost our track so we can finally walk and catch out a breath.

"That was some sabotage." He remarked as he gasped.

"Sure it was."

"Well, I'll just get to the others inside." he claps me on the shoulder and then goes inside while I went to the secret tunnel entrance that leads to the underground part of the Café Theatre mansion, I went upstairs to the quarters hall and then knocked on the door to check on Celestine.

"Celestine? May I come in?"

I knocked several times and I was rewarded with no answer, I discovered that the door was unlocked and then I found her room in a neat order and her clothes—her blouse and trousers—were folded on a chair near her wardrobe.

Let me guess…

She's nowhere in this part of the mansion. If her original clothes were there in her bedroom it's most likely that she's wearing an outfit from her bedroom's wardrobe or maybe her official Assassin robes, I went downstairs towards the door that leads to the corridor of the Sanctuary and then went upstairs to the grand study hall where cascading shelves of books and scrolls are stored. I looked around as I walked step by step and she was nowhere to be found. I don't even know what color her robes are. What also came into my mind is that is she wearing the usual face cover that my other brothers wear as well? Or is it like mine and my brothers—the set of robes that slightly resembles a suit and a coat.

I kept stalking on the hall until a fellow Assassin had their eyes on a book while walking their way out of the study, this only caught my peripheral attention and so I kept going until I accidentally bumped into Octavien when I was on my way to the elevated part of the study hall.

"Arno? What are you doing here?" Octavien.

"I was looking for—"

"Celestine?"

I gawked at him, rather surprised. How could he have figured that out?

"Uh, yes…"

"Didn't you notice her? She was just here."

"What?!"

"She was the one holding the book."

So that was her? I didn't notice because she had the book to her face, blocking my view of her. How didn't I see that coming?

I rushed to the balcony to see if she was still around here and then I saw her at the foot of the staircase on the left and probably heading back to the mansion. Since I wasn't allowed to do such acrobatics inside the Sanctuary, I ran down the stairs and tried catching up on her.

Somehow, this reminded me of Elise. No… that's got to stop.

"Celestine!" I cried out.

She turned around, the hood on and still I can see her luminous teal eyes.

"Hello, Arno."

"Hello indeed. I really didn't see you back there."

"Sorry, I was too preoccupied with this manuscript of the early Assassins."

"Are you heading back to the mansion?"

"Yes."

"Can I walk with you?"

"Of course." She casually smiles and then leads the way through the hollow rocky tunnel passage.

While we walk together, I examined her and her robes—the outer robes which were the coat and the hood is grayish-white in color, her collar, inner garments and a few of the trimmings were red and finally, her gloves and boots were black. They fit her nicely and she looks comfortable in them too but she tends to keep her hood off when inside the Sanctuary and would put them on before going out in the open. She doesn't even bother tying her long wavy hair that falls to her abdomen already but for some reason, she keeps them in place.

Now that we were back in the mansion, we climbed up the stairs and then we were already in the foyer of the second floor.

"I'll just go to my room to put this away." Celestine says as she begins to walk away from me.

"Celestine…"

She stops and turns around, "Yes?"

"You look good in your Assassin robes."

"Merci." She smiles and then goes into her bedroom.

A few minutes later, she got out while I was conversing with a brother who was lounging by the column of the stairs. She just passed by me, she must've thought that I was indulging in the conversation with a brother so she didn't bother to talk to me. I abruptly dismissed the conversation with him and caught up with her halfway the stairs.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Oh, I was just about to go to Madame Gouze. She might have something for me to work on."

"Alright then. I'll see you in a bit, I hope."

"Okay then."

I honestly don't know what's going on with me towards Celestine. I don't want to keep implying that she's almost the spitting image of Elise but that would just be downright offending.

I strolled my way towards Madame Gouze's table as I watched the poet onstage going about a satirical monologue about the Revolution in an artisan's way of thinking—covering it up with fantasies and such.

"Remarkable girl, isn't she?" Mme. Gouze.

"Hmn?"

"The girl. Celestine, isn't it? Yes, her—such spirit and willingness. She quickly accepted going after Renard, I'm sure she'll do fine."

I put my foot forward and then she suddenly stopped me with another of her remarks about Celestine.

"Hold your intentions of following her. She doesn't like being watched over—makes her feel inferior and child-like. She's a grown woman, she says, and she's quite right."

For hours I waited for her, even while doing some missions I was hopeful that we would bump into each other in the next corner of the street but there was no Celestine running about to accidentally bump through my shoulder while running.

I wonder where could she be? To be honest, I want to know more about her. Why did she join the Brotherhood?

I kept overlooking from the roofs, from the chimneys and let alone at the edges of whatever church I perch on, I can't see her. While I was still stricken with the mysteries of Celestine, I suddenly realized that she went out on a mission… yes, she did go on a mission but what exactly is her strategy? I saw her own Hidden Blade and she had a Phantom Blade as well. This may sound offending but does she know how to use those things? She must be just using her sword and gun as of the moment.

But if she decides to learn in the middle of battle, she just might get injured trying to learn the Berserk and the Phantom Blade, let alone the Hidden Blade itself.

If she comes back, I think I'll go dueling with her in the garden. How ironic. Clashing steel with a girl in a garden. Romantic and all the while ironic.


	4. Making Oneself at Home

**Celestine's POV ******

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********

Dispatching the guards was the first detail in my strategy, otherwise, I would end up being surrounded by brutes with axes again after killing my target. But I wasn't here to kill Renard, I was here to retrieve these stolen trinkets but they're heavily guarded and I discovered that they were locked when I watched one guard placing a lock on a chest.

I leaped towards the roof of the house where they were keeping the jewelry and gold, and I equipped a Berserk Blade into the runway of armament and carefully hung myself upside down just so I could get a view of whoever's guarding that chest. On this floor I'm peeking on, there was one brute with one swordsman. I aimed the Berserk Blade at the brute and climbed back up the moment I triggered it to him. I heard him scream in madness and then the troubled swordsman tried to assess whatever's going on with his companion until I heard the heavy thudding sound of an axe plunging through flesh and bone.

"I think that did the trick." I mumbled to myself as I tried to listen to the commotion happening underneath the roof I'm sitting on.

I did another peek through the window and then the brute's scream must've alerted the others and caused them to climb to that particular floor as well and they began to attack the berserk as well. I watched to see if the odds of the brute surviving against one spearman and a swordsman.

Practically not.

I waited for those two to kill the berserk instead, I'll just dispatch them with a Phantom Blade afterward. As quietly as I can, I entered through the window and found cover behind a stack of crates, it gave me the advantage of preparing two Phantom Blades into the runway and then I aimed the first one to the nape of the spearman. He died in an instant and then I confronted the swordsman with my own sword as well.

Although it wasn't easy, I did the best I could and evading was the only thing that kept me alive. Evading his incoming attack, I slipped through the open gap under his arm and immediately plunged my sword into his back. Blood fountained from the wound I gave him and then I let his blood pool under the soles of my boots as I come for the chest.

"Lockpicked…" I muttered to myself as I examined the padlock and then fished for a lockpick from my coat and tried to see if I can be good at this.

As I opened the lid… the entire chest was smothered with jewelry. Some of them looked imported too. And all, in particular, is the jewelry that Mme. Gouze needs to have it retrieved and returned to the Café Theatre.

I was making my way back to the window where I first emerged and attacked the guards and just when I was about to go to the outer side of the window, I suddenly heard the landing of boots on the wooden floor which made me jump back inside and maneuver myself to draw my sword to that stranger.

To my surprise…

"Arno?! Wha-what are you doing here?"

"I… I just…"

"You followed me, didn't you? Even if Mme. Gouze said you shouldn't." I hear myself hiss.

"I know but just hear me out, I… I wanted to see you."

"Well, that's… inconvenient. No, seriously, what are you doing here? And why did you follow me?"

"I wanted to see how you fight."

"Too bad, you missed the show."

"Look, I'm sorry."

"It's alright, just… don't do that again, please?"

"Alright, alright. Are you done?"

"Yes, I'm going back to the café now."

"Let's go then."

Just as he was about to go out to the window, I had to stop and ask him one thing:

"Why did you really follow me?"

He only smirked and then leaped out the window. Oh, brilliant.

"Arno!"

Wow, he's as stubborn as I expected. Well, I'm not disappointed in my own presumptions. I didn't need to follow him, I just went out on my own way to the café—it'd be amusing if I got there first without him knowing completely. I saw the route he took and I went the other way around—ironically, that certain other way around is the nearest route to the café and I was practically laughing while beginning to free-run on the rooftops.

Because seriously, he actually thinks that he could race me to the safehouse?

Not on your pretty watch, Arno.

As fast as I can, I ran and leaped over until I heard the sound of a whimpering man being harassed by two extremists. To be honest, I'm a little thankful that they're the regular-sized extremists—with the snipers being the scrawniest—and there was a lamp post for me to perch on so that my momentum of pouncing over them would be better somehow.

Drawing out the blades on both hands, I put myself on the stance and then my knees just sprung me off from my narrow perch and then the next thing I knew I landed on the extremists' backs and I saw blooded beginning to thickly pool under my soles—this is the second blood puddle I'm stepping on already.

The victim was muttering "Merci" with his hands complementing the thanks, and then I nodded at him as a welcome. Master Trenet taught me that sometimes word of mouth isn't always necessary. A gesture would do and that is what I am doing.

Luckily, when I killed the extremists there were no guards around but fellow rebels although I do not know what faction did they belong to—I only know those who fought alongside my faction which travels around Arsenal, Temple and the heart of the city near Notre Dame. Looting the extremists, I managed to pick a couple of smoke bombs from the one on my left, I didn't realize that the other was the bomber but now that I killed them both in a swift pounce I guess I get to keep the loot—whatever they are, they sure are helpful.

Ooh, chocolate! Don't mind if I do!

Now, back to my route to the safehouse. Even if I killed some time by rescuing the helpless citizen from extremists, I can still catch up if I run fast enough and leap far enough even though I have not yet the caliber of doing such dangerous stunts but it's always worth the experience. Not even mentors can be the only teachers I'll ever have in my entire life.

Scaling the walls was one thing but swinging from one bar to the next was the thrilling type for me because even for just a quick second I felt how it is to fly. Even if I execute the Leap of Faith, a small fleeting moment of flying is sometimes worth it. But still, I have to admit, executing the Leap is quite exciting, I must say.

"Where could Arno be?"

I looked around when I was already at the overall top of the mansion—the dome roof which covers the Legacy Room—and I kept looking down on the streets and at the level of the rooftops but still no sign of him.

Did he get himself lost around Paris or was he helping somebody out? Besides, he's not expected to finish a task, correct? So I would assume that he's either helping that fat policeman that does nothing but doze off in his office or somewhere worth more than that.

I gave up looking for him and gently slid down on the curve of the dome and pressed my feet on the narrow surface of the rims. I suddenly felt a pair of hands clutch on my shoulders and it made me jump and instantly turn around.

How long has he been here?!

"How long have you been here?" I asked in surprise.

"Um," he checks on his pocketwatch, "Five minutes."

"And… what route did you exactly take?"

"Oh just…" and he gave me a flurry of directions this and that, over here and over there—they were so confusing at the same time funny so I just laughed instead of trying to understand gibberish directions.

"Alright, alright. Let's go down now." I said as I entered the open door to the Legacy Room.

I took a look around the small room, there were the armors and suits of the legendary Master Assassins of time. They were caged in with golden bars—they must be so valuable to be barred like that. On the other side was Thomas de Carneillion's Master Assassin armor. Just by looking at it, I'm so fascinated with its color and the hood. Although it didn't have gloves—just like Master Edward Kenway's armor—but still, I love how elaborate the details are in the metal parts.

And then there's Arno's Master Assassin armor.

"Do you actually wear this?" I said, my eyes locked on the armor.

"I did although I still prefer these."

"You mean your original robes?"

"Yes. Why? What about my armor?"

I can feel him closing in on me from behind. I turned around and leaned my back against the golden bars, nobody said anything about laying a finger on the bars—just not the armors.

"I'd love to see you wear it someday." I blurted as I smirk at him.

"Do you now?"

"Yes."

"Want me to wear it now?"

I laughed and gently and playfully pulled him away from me at least just a few steps off. His laugh was rather charming even for just a chuckle—any woman would have run off with him once he laughs, even the slightest chuckle.

"You're not fooling me, Arno." I chuckled.

"But I wasn't." he smiles.

"Yes, you were. Coy as a child."

"And you, my dear, is as innocent-looking as a cherub."

"That's what you think." I headed for the exit and greeted Andre on my way down to the weapons room on the second floor.

I went to the ground floor, in the café area of the mansion where there was a small show happening. I didn't pay much attention as I walked across the area where the patrons are seated while watching the stage show to the secluded benches where Mme. Gouze was sitting alone in one of them.

"Do you have them, child?"

"Oui, Mme. Gouze. I also found out that Arno followed me."

She chuckled whilst writing down notes in her journal, "I already told the boy not to follow you but he is—"

"Stubborn, I know." I cut in.

She looked up at me and we both exchanged glances and smiles—the kind of gesture that only women will understand with each other—and as I dismissed myself, I headed upstairs.

Retreating to my bedroom, I took off my hood and my cloak, revealing the undershirt and the vest and then threw myself on the bed. I'm exhausted with everything that was going on and all I ever want is some rest. Nobody shouldn't be knocking or barging in—regardless if it was one of the housekeepers or a fellow Brother.

And then I thought to myself… aside from Madame Trenet, am I the only female around here? I don't mind at all, but really? Am I the first woman in Paris to be a part of the Brotherhood. It's really a privilege if it's put that way.

Although I'm thankful for the friends I have made when I first got here—Octavien who is so uptight like a real elder brother but still knows how to have some fun although in his own way, Siegfried and Felix who think like twins when it comes to mischief but they work in unison which makes their combat tactics really impressive…

And don't get me started with Arno.

That rebellious yet somehow rational. Charming and a bit playful—that I have to level myself with because I won't let my guard down when I'm with him. He has a funny side too that I find… convincing.

Though they do act like children despite being in their twenties, I find that rather amusing.

I dozed off the entire afternoon and I slept like a baby on those soft sinking sheets and my pillow.


	5. Gradual Affections

**Arno's POV ******

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********

The entire time when she was beginning to walk away, I wanted to stop her and just keep her with me. I don't need to talk, I just want her near me but I can't—for some reason, I can't. I don't even know I'm like this towards her.

Am I honestly going along with her?

I have no idea, in truth.

I went downstairs and went to my room, took off my coat and washed my face. I noticed that my desk was cluttered so I arranged the envelopes and letters into one drawer and then I heard a knock on my door in the middle of me fixing that one corner in my bedroom.

"Come in!" I called out.

The door opens, I turn around and it was Octavien.

"Ah, Brother, didn't expect you paying a visit." I joked.

"Heh, well, Siegfried and Felix are out again doing God knows what."

"Of course. Give them some learning experience, will you?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Erm, where's Celestine?"

I stopped at the sound of her name.

"What is there about her?"

"Oh nothing, it's just that we haven't been seeing her lately—even our fellow Brothers are looking for her, they could've used her help."

"We went out and she is probably sleeping in her bedroom."

"Ah, I see, well—"

"Why—of all people in the Brotherhood—would you ask help from Celestine when there are others who can give that helping hand to our Brothers?"

"My, well, Arno… the girl is a master at swords. She may be lethal and dangerous but she is useful all the while."

"Yes, I can see that." I squinted at that.

"You're not seriously thinking that I fancy her, do you, Arno?"

"It's just that you refer to her in an odd manner."

"Don't worry, I have no intentions of the sort. Unlike you…"

We both shared a hearty brotherly laugh at that because he was the first to notice my first look on Celestine. Perhaps he really saw her just a fellow Assassin.

Octavien left my room after helping me clean the clutter in my room. I rested on the armchair in front of the unlit kindle since it's still the afternoon. I felt kind of… too moving. I mean, I can't settle down in the chair for at least half an hour and so I marched out of the room and headed for Celestine's bedroom but then I found a maid just closing her door quietly and carefully.

As I approached the maid, she was talking in a soft tone, "Best not disturb mademoiselle Celestine."

"Oh alright, I just wanted to check on her."

"Sleeping like a baby, monsieur Arno."

"Bien."

I waited for the maid to reach downstairs and then I opened her door with such tension, I was gripping it tightly and was pushing in a little force—even though it would make little difference in creating a creaking noise on the door—while opening it.

Poking my head in slowly and carefully, I found her sleeping heavenly in her bed with the mattress sucking her in softly and her blankets covering her from feet to her shoulders—she must really be tired to sleep so peacefully and heavenly.

I remembered what the maid said about not disturbing Celestine, since I already checked on her and she's just there sleeping so peacefully, I went out and headed for the hidden entrance that leads me to the Brotherhood. I expected my Brothers to be there at least in the study hall or perhaps in the meeting room—wait, that doesn't sound convenient, they'd only call us when we're tasked to kill an important Templar or perhaps when we're in trouble.

"Where are my Brothers?" I asked one Brother wearing black and a red shirt within.

He gestured with a nod pointing upstairs and then I instantly saw the three of them in the study hall. I went upstairs and I'm rather surprised to see Siegfried and Felix finally in here.

"Nothing fun to do, eh, boys?" I greeted the two youngsters.

"Well, we did have enough fun with some extremists outside the Notre Dame—it just doesn't end, hm?—and then there's this little conflict with the policemen thanks to Siegfried." Felix says as he runs through a book.

"Hey, that was his fault. I was only passing through and it was his fault that he bumped my shoulder and thought that I was some rebellious rogue." Siegfried reasons as quietly and calmly as he can.

"In which you really are—we all are, truth be told." Octavien chuckles.

He was sitting at one of the desks and then he was reading a copy of today's paper. More extremists and police conflicts, I even saw a part of the news including the rebels fighting off both sides and I never knew which faction she belonged to before she even became an Assassin.

Also, I realized that I don't know her backstory. All I know is that she's possibly a part of a rebel faction and that she joined the Assassins—although I can't figure out the reason why she joined the Assassins. Is it to seek liberty? Revenge, maybe? I don't know. She seems rather vague about her past life before entering the Brotherhood but I will wait for the time when she feels like telling her story.

Everyone needs a listener.

Just as Siegfried and I were about to go back downstairs, we were called by a raspy whisper.

"A word, Brothers?" a fellow Assassin said as I stepped down on the miniature set of stairs that leads to the very aisle of the study hall.

"Yes?"

"There's this little problem we have with the Templars."

"As if we don't." Siegfried cuts in but I shushed him immediately.

"Continue." I said to the fellow Brother.

"We have an associate of the Brotherhood, he's no Assassin but he's of use to us according to the Masters, he got arrested and he's sentenced to Madame Guillotine by the afternoon today."

"We better get a move on, now." I said as I abruptly darted to the stairs and then Siegfried along with our Brotherhood tagged along with me. We exited the Sanctuary and then we were finally out in the open.

"Where is the associate sentenced!?"

"Le Marais!" the Brother cries as we dart through small crowds and streets.

"We'll make it, boys!"

Our first option was to scale the walls and then free-run across the rooftops to make our navigation faster and more accurate. Down below, I could hear the people crying out the contents of the paper even though I already have a copy in my bedroom. We all kept running and running and we even triggered some lifts to get to the other rooftop faster.

"Arno! Over here!" our Brother cried as he gestured his hands vigorously, Siegfried and I went to him and followed him.

"Are we close, Brother?!" Siegfried gasped, I wasn't sure to whom he was referring that question—me or our Brother?

"Almost there!" our companion answers as he takes the lead.

We continued running as we followed him, but then I realized that he was directly heading for the edge of the roof that we're running on to which we would fall to the open—I was beginning to doubt the Brother until he swiftly descends down the roof and lands on a canopy of the second outer tier of the building and then landed on the ground.

We didn't exactly need to follow him where he was running on, as long as we are on the same track—it's no difference at all.

Little by little, the run was getting tiring but I didn't have to stop—I loved the feeling of running especially when there's something I am after. Eventually, we already entered the district of Le Marais and we were looking for the town square where usually the executions are being held.

"Brothers, look!" Siegfried calls out as he looks on from another roof giving him another angle.

Our companion quickly makes his way to the roof where Siegfried stands, I was already behind them when I got a glimpse of the crowd.

"What's our approach?" Siegfried.

"We can't just get down there and charge the guards holding him." Our Brother.

I walked to the edge of the roof and tried concentrating. Now, let's see here…

The crowd seems enthusiastic about the execution.

The man holding the lever is ready for anything and any moment soon.

There are guards around the perimeter of the guillotine—two for each side, then that means there's four guards and for each side is a regular policeman wielding a sword and the other is a gunner—there are also two more guards on the platform in case someone interferes, and most likely the building we're standing on has a few extremists inside, although I'm not sure how many are stationed in each floor.

But where is the associate for crying out loud?

An official was reading the sentence papers of the associate to the crowd and they were going wild—I wasn't sure if they were wildly mad or wildly excited for another head to plop to a wicker basket. Anyhow, it was up to the three of us to stop the execution.

"Arno, the associate is here—he's kept within one of the buildings—they'll bring him once the official finishes reading his trial papers." Siegfried tells me.

I clapped his shoulder and slightly grasped it, "Siegfried, I need you to cause a distraction for the guards."

"What will it be?"

"Thick smoke. Now go. Be careful, there could be an extremist sniper on the balcony." As he abruptly and obediently walks away with full understanding of my plan, I watched him stop first on the edge and then jumps down—I heard a gagging sound, so I was right, there was a sniper.

And then I turn to my companion, "Once Siegfried sends out the smoke that is when we come in. For sure the crowd will disperse, giving us enough time to run towards the guards and kill as many as we can."

I watched Siegfried do his job, he fished for a smoke bomb on his belt and then throws it hard and straight to the ground and when we heard the explosion and hissing sound of the emitting gas, my companion and I rushed downwards towards the ground.

The crowds screamed and they stumbled in fear but only a few stayed to see what was the sudden commotion happening around them. While the smoke was still thick, the three of us slayed as many policemen as we can and I dispatched the one at the lever with the Phantom Blade.

"Siegfried!" I heard our companion screech when I eyed on a brute aiming his pistol at Siegfried but our Brother took the bullet on his shoulder.

Out of sudden rage, I loaded my Phantom Blade and the dart hit the brute's eye—instantly killing him—and when we saw the small batch of police that was escorting the associate to his would-be death, I gunned the two of them down—the two that was behind the intel—and then the one on the lead was helplessly at the blade of Siegfried.

When it seemed that all enemies were dispatched, Siegfried cut off the ropes bound to the intel's wrists.

"Oh… Merci, monsieur." The intel whimpered, we later discovered that he was a doctor, namely Gustav Allard.

"De rien." Siegfried.

I heard the moaning of the pain of our companion, he was writhing in pain as the blood begins to flood on his robes, staining them in big patches and making him almost immobile.

"Brother, stay with us, alright?" I said as I checked on his wound.

"It's over for me now, hmn?" he tried being sarcastic at a life-and-death matter.

"Don't say that, the intel's a doctor, he can help us…" Siegfried encourages as he brings in the rescued doctor.

Doctor checks on his wound, according to him the bullet must have gotten stuck in within the flesh of his shoulder and the only way to get it out is to use tongs, antiseptic and a lot of linen.

"I'm afraid my clinic is far away from this district, does your home happened to have any medical supplies I might borrow to save your friend?"

"Oui, we do! But can you do anything first to lessen the bleeding, doctor?" Siegfried.

"The bodies might have some in their pockets. Take what you can." The doctor suggests as he still examines on our companion's shoulder.

Siegfried and I quickly looted and pocketed whatever we can but as of this moment, we were desperate for linen, gauze and bandages but of course we need them clean and fresh.

Siegfried picked up several bandages from the brutes and bombers. I got some from the policemen as well, and when we thought that it was enough to bandage our Brother's wound, Doctor Gustav asked us to unbutton our Brother's robes to expose the wounded part and then the doctor begins to wrap it around his shoulder.

"Can you carry him?" Doctor Gustav.

"Yes…" Siegfried.

"Make sure you don't hit his wound. Every nudge is painful."

Our carrying technique for him was quite complicated. I shouldered him by the head so as his torso is suspended while Siegfried takes his waist on his shoulder, making his boots thump on Siegfried's chest to and fro. When we were nearly out of Le Marais, a kindly man was generous enough to offer a cot to lay our Brother down comfortable and carry him by the handles of the cot instead.

We decided to bring our Brother to the mansion instead of the Sanctuary and it caused quite a little draw of attention from the maids and a few fellow Brothers who were lounging.

"Adrien?!" one Assassin called out our companion's name.

"Bonjour, Dareau." Adrien chuckles.

"Arno, I'll take it from here." Another fellow offered his help to me as he takes my place in holding the handles.

I have to admit, my back and shoulders were aching and then I saw Celestine coming out from the library and seeing Adrien on the cot and being escorted to a guest room where he can be treated.

She comes running up to me and sees me heavily and slowly panting.

"Are you hurt?" Celestine.

"No, no… Just aching."

"What happened?"

"Adrien took a bullet for Siegfried, from a brute. That doctor you saw with us? That was the associate we saved from the guillotine."

Out of the blue, she suddenly takes off my hood and checks my face for bruises or wounds.

To be honest, I was quite surprised she did that.

"There's a small nick on your cheek." She mutters as she runs her thumb across my cheek, and then I spotted a smudge of blood on it.

I wiped it with my sleeve and managed a smile, "There, no blood."

"Rinse it off, Arno." She says in a sweet tone both trying to play along with my childishness and a tone saying that she means it.


	6. Tutor

With Adrien being treated by the doctor and a few maids assisting him, the sound of Adrien's screams of pain can be heard through the door although muffled. It's most probable that Doctor Gustav is already taking out the bullet in his patient's flesh. Within a few exhausting hours, the screams have stopped and only faint moans from Adrien is audible. The doctor has left and the intendant was charged for doctoral fees which cost 1500 Livres (or Francs in the modern era). Gustav's prescription was the regularly clean the young man's wound thrice a day—rinsing, washing, cleaning, re-dressing and re-bandaging the wound is to be followed accordingly—Gustav also gave medicines for Adrien to recover much faster and reminded the people in the house that Adrien should be given plenty of rest in order to recover.

"The bullet has reached deep into his flesh and it was fatal. It's a miracle that he survived." Gustav says as the maid offers to escort him outside while the other Assassins chose to stay with Adrien, they also promised that they won't disturb him.

Celestine heard this as she listened out of curiosity and concerned about a fellow Assassin, leaning by the marble banister of the staircase listening to the doctor's order and watching him leave the mansion and then she later returned to the library to her reading.

As Arno retired to his bedroom to wash off the dirt in his face, including the bleeding cut on his cheek noticed by Celestine, in his mind he reimagined her giggling and smiling at him.

In other words, he was mildly fantasizing about the girl.

He smiled to himself and was still smiling even though he was wiping his face with a towel. He took off his coat and hung it on the rack next to his closet, took off his gloves and placed them on his bedside table and then unbuttoned the cuffs of his white shirt and folded them up to his elbows. He got out of his room and walked his way to the library where he expected Celestine should be, reading and whiling away her hours with books. In truth, his legs had total control of him as he was walking to the library but indeed he really wanted to see her.

**Arno's POV ******

********

********

I obeyed what Celestine said, I rinsed off the blood and dirt on my face in my bedroom and then I came to find her in the library. She was leisurely enticed with a book as she relaxingly leans on the armchair and gently swings her leg to and fro.

I knew that my footsteps were audible, thanks to the thick soles of my boots and then she lowered down her book revealing her dark brown eyes.

"Hello, Arno." her eyes showed no particular emotion such as delight to see me or perhaps a territorial look that tells me to get away but her voice did sound very benign.

"Celestine."

"I see that you've washed off the blood."

"Well, I knew I had to."

She finally lowered down the entire book to show her face and she was showing off a charming smirk. "You only did it because I told you to. If I didn't tell you in the first place, you would only notice it by dinner."

The both of us chuckled. But I noticed that she had to cover her mouth with her hands even though her fingers are slowly parting and showing her smiling face through the spaces between her fingers.

"Well, I guess you had me there." she had me with her smile, not her remark but I guess I'll have to leave it ambiguous.

"Hmmn." she gradually stops her chuckling and then concluded it by biting her lip and looking away from me, her eyes were looking at the direction of the window.

Her pinkish peachy lips...

"That's an interesting book."

"Yes, it's about Nostradamus and his works. It's quite enticing, really. It's rather fascinating to know how an old man can write about such strange philosophies."

I looked to the small table next to her—more books and they were awfully thick because of the leather bindings.

"And these?" I walked up to them and took one from the middle.

"Leisure reading—I finished them before you and Siegfried arrived in the first floor."

I read the cover of what I was holding, it was about the planets and how they orbit, including some strange philosophies from scientists like Galileo and da Vinci. And then mythology. And a little bit of history and geography.

"You know, you can sit right there, Arno." Celestine.

"Where?"

She taps on the armrest of a velvet-cushioned armchair just on her left side although it was positioned at an angle.

I sat down and then she continued reading and I had no choice but to continue reading the book I picked up from her as well. I thought that I could just start a conversation with her.

"It's been awfully quite boring in here, Arno. Ever since I woke up. I heard that you left with Siegfried and Adrien when I woke up. One of the maids seem to fancy you."

"I don't know much of the maids and I won't even bother."

"Why not?"

"It's best if I don't say it."

"Alright then. That was vague if you ask me."

"You didn't do any tasks?"

"I did, I think. Well, I did kill a few Templar influences. They did threaten to show the secrecy of the Brotherhood so I had to silence them—completely."

That is both scary and amazing. I just looked at her when she said that, my lips parted in astonishment. Nobody should ever mess with this woman. When I caught her eye because of my reaction, she stopped her reading and looked at me with a rather gentle face.

"You seem frightened about that, Arno."

"It's just that… I never thought that… you could fight like that. And to think that no one should underestimate you."

"It just happens."

"Celestine…"

"Hm?"

"Might I ask where you came from? Your past life before here in the Brotherhood."

"If you must know, I'm part Italian."

"You don't look the part although fascinating."

"My mother was Italian while my father was French. My father trained me into wielding a sword professionally. I lived half of my life in Venice and then we moved here in France when I was fourteen, we lived close to my cousins from Father's side, of course. Little did I know that my parents were both Assassins."

"Then that means…"

"My Hidden Blade belonged to my mother. The sword I wield is a gift from my father on my sixteenth birthday. Although they were separately given."

"When did you mother give you her Hidden Blade?"

"On my eighteenth."

"I see. Please continue."

"Both of them continued to train me. But my Father was mostly the one who does the training. Mother decided to homeschool me instead but I still embraced the way of swordfighting. Then Father brought me to my cousins, most of them were boys, to train with me. I grew up joining boys' play instead of girls' although I do have a cousin—her name is Juliette and she was my only playmate in playing girl's toys because she doesn't prefer swords like the boys but she did like watching me play swords with her brothers—who were Assassins-in-training as well but I still had no idea about the Assassins at that time, they didn't want to tell me about as well which I found unfair although it was under their father's strict rule."

"Celestine, if you don't mind me asking… Why did you join the Brotherhood?"

"I wanted to continue my parents' legacy. Although my father resigned early in the Brotherhood of France, he still was recognized—especially by Guillaume. My mother however was an acknowledged Assassin in Italy. And…"

"And what?"

"I wanted to avenge them. They were murdered when I was nineteen and then I lived with my cousins and Juliette after that. My uncle continued my father's training to me and my male cousins aided me. Juliette managed to keep my femininity in check growing up."

A short of moment of silence and I cleared my throat to stop the awkwardness.

"Well, err… I am sorry about your parents and…"

"It's alright, Arno, really." She puts aside her book and then leans relaxingly on her chair.

"Did I tire you out?"

"No, no. Why would even think that?" she chuckles as she turns her head to me.

I have always found her smile very charming.

She stands up and then straightens the stacks of the books she read and then begins to carry them—but with great effort. I abruptly stand up to help her and took the heavier half of her book stack and including the one I just read.

"Let me handle this." I smiled.

"Thank you but you really shouldn't, Arno."

"I don't mind being a gentleman to a lady as exceptional as you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Just as he places the books on the shelf, he turns around with his mouth partially open so as to say something but cannot, and then he just weakly chuckles and makes a lame excuse to Celestine.

"Well, every woman is exceptional—even you. A lady Assassin in the Brotherhood, can easily… dispatch a Templar… What's not exceptional about that?"

"I see." She smirks.

When she was about to put away the books she was still holding, Arno was still standing there making the two of unintentionally close to each other and that made Celestine step back a little slowly.

"I'll just go to my room now." she excuses herself as she begins to walk away as casually as she can.

"Celestine..."

Just so she wouldn't appear rude, she stopped and turned around with a straight face, showing that the short scenario back there wasn't at all affecting.

"Yes?"

"Maybe if you have the time... at least teach me a little bit of Italian?"

She smiles slowly and absentmindedly, blinks for a few times and changes the direction to where her irises are pointing at, she was avoiding eye contact with Arno and thought about it.

"Of course, I can teach you. I'd be happy to."

"Merci."

"Prego."

"What?"

"I said you're welcome."

And then Celestine goes walking again and Arno watched her walk away until she vanished into her bedroom and he bit his knuckles, muttering and cursing to himself what a bad move that was but then thanked himself for winging it. Although he still thinks of her as a spitting image of Elise only with a different hair color. But then smiled like a fool when he saw the look on her face.

Meanwhile, as Celestine closed her bedroom door, she leaned against it and then thought of Arno's face the whole time. She can't help but smile and giggle to herself about how childish and adorable Arno acted back there with her. And then she sighed those away as she bounces to her bed and embraced her pillow.


	7. Someone I Used To Know

And as promised, Celestine did teach Arno how to speak Italian. She first taught him the basics like ciao, buongiorno, buona pomeriggio, buona sera and buonanotte, and even arrividerci. She promised that once he's learned enough of the basics and speak in them as if second natural language, she would teach him phrases and sentences in Italian.

They do this whenever they don't have anything important to do like investigations or infiltrating Templar hideouts and killing specific Templar influences. They usually do their language lessons in the outdoor garden on the second floor of the mansion. But under one condition, if Celestine gives Arno lessons in speaking Italian—in turn, he would give her sword fighting lessons and better tactics in using her Hidden Blades. He gladly agreed to this kind of treaty and on they went.

Andre, the man who mentors novice Assassins with their weapons of choice, sees the bond that Arno and Celestine share with each other. He says that it's a good thing and that it should be taken with great care and value.

Little by little, when weeks turned into months and as Celestine progressed her status in the Brotherhood—greatly leaving a good impression to Quemar, Guillaume, and Trenet and to the other Assassins—she got promoted from novice to an intermediate level.

**Arno's POV ******

****"Buona pomeriggio, Celestine." I greeted as I barge into the library—where she usually is when nothing is in action.** **

****"Bon après-midi, Arno."** **

****I sat down on the same armchair beside her but I didn't take out any book, I just sat there then angled myself towards her.** **

****"You seem lively today, Arno." She momentarily stops her reading.** **

****"The weather is quite nice."** **

****"Alright, what's gotten into you?" she chuckles.** **

****I pursed my lips in with a smile. "Nothing. Well, perhaps the weather is to blame."** **

****"How come the weather is the culprit for your behavior?"** **

****I shrugged and then waited for her reaction—she just sighed.** **

****"Oh Arno, you and your childishness are the only things I cannot comprehend."** **

****I abruptly stand up and then offered my hand to her as if I was offering her a dance. Much to her surprise, she put her book on the small table and then questioned my gesture before taking my hand.** **

****"What is it this time, Arno?"** **

****"I want to show you something—and believe me, it's the perfect time for this."** **

****It took her some time to think about it until she finally took a hold of my hand and then walked with me. I brought her to the top of the dome via the narrow doorway from the Legacy Room.** **

****I wanted to show her the sunset here at the dome of the Café Theatre.** **

****"Be careful…" I cooed.** **

****"Alright."** **

****When we were already side-by-side on the narrow rim of the dome, we saw the sunset behind the silhouette of the Romanesque towers of Notre Dame. I hesitantly and gently grabbed her shoulders and then supported her that way the entire time as I adjusted her stance for her to get the perfect view.** **

****"Just stay still… right there." I whispered.** **

****"My knees are trembling a little."** **

****"Then relax."** **

****When she finally relaxed but still tensed her feet a little to get some control of her legs while we're at that height, we watched the sunset and then the gentle breeze blew her feathery locks to my face—making me catch a scent of her hair.** **

****"I never told you that you remind me of someone that I used to know before." I muttered.** **

****"Who?"** **

****"Her name is Elise. She's gone now."** **

****"I see… And did you do this with her before?"** **

****"Yes."** **

****"Arno… you can let go now."** **

****"Why?"** **

****"Just! Let go…" she suddenly snapped and I had no idea what just happened.** **

****She nudged away from me and then jumped down to the balcony of the Legacy Room and then went inside, I can still hear her footsteps on the floorboards of the room until they were all but faint steps.** **

****Was it something I said?** **

****Instead of thinking what I did wrong, I went after her and then bumped into Octavien when I was already in the second-floor foyer.** **

****"Arno?"** **

****"Octavien!" I gasped, "Where is Celestine?"** **

****"She just left, says she's going to do an errand for Mme. Gouze."** **

****"Oh no…" I groaned in misery.** **

****"What happened to you two?"** **

****"I just… told her about… Elise and then… she suddenly walked away at the roof and—" I was so frantic that I can't even coherently construct my sentence.** **

****"Alright, alright. Calm down first, Brother. Let's talk in the library, shall we?"** **

****"Alright…"** **

****He and I went to the library and then we sat down on the same chairs where Celestine and I spend our reading and Italian lessons.** **

****"Now, collect your thoughts for a moment and tell me what exactly did you say to her and do to her."** **

****I was given only a few minutes to recollect everything starting from here in the library up to the part where she and I were already on the rim of the dome.** **

****"Well, I brought her to the rim of the dome because I wanted to show her the sunset on that spot and then I told her that she reminds me of Elise. She asked if I used to do that to her when she was still alive and I said yes, and after that, she tried getting out of my hold and then walked in and away from me."** **

****As I finished my statement, Octavien begins to talk.** **

****"Arno, from my experience with women—they don't like being compared to other women or being used to just relive the moment of another. What you did back there was the second factor—you somewhat used Celestine to remember your moments with Elise of watching the sunset on the rooftop. Not a single woman wants to be treated like that—be it a noblewoman or a courtesan—none of them want that kind of treatment."** **

****"I honestly didn't mean to offend her but she took it rather seriously."** **

****He chuckles, "You don't have the slightest comprehension of what Celestine's body language is trying to say, do you? Have you become that numb or vulnerable to women and their feelings?"** **

****I was silent. I contemplated as much as I can and then I looked up at Octavien with a slightly crazed look in my face, "What should I do? She might not talk to me because of that."** **

****"Give her some time to cool her head—and her heart. Apologize—not only by word but by action."** **

****"How and when did you learn to start knowing about these things?"** **

****"Arno, I've been entertaining women—applied all the foolishness with them and committed the same mistakes to them and used those mistakes as a lesson until I found a more suitable dame for me."** **

****I leaned on my armchair in despair, my head up high on the ceiling thinking what should and could I do to make it up to Celestine. I don't even have the slightest idea where she is—if I ask Mme. Gouze where she is, she'll only tell me not to follow her even though Celestine herself requested that.** **

****I retired to my bedroom and then sat in front of my kindle in misery and confusion, I don't want to do. I rubbed my temples and my forehead and then tried to assess where could that woman be. I tried asking one of the maids where was Celestine headed and fortunately, one of them revealed her whereabouts. The maid said that she saw Celestine was just running her way out of the cafe and then headed to the city proper and she was going to do God-knows-what.** **

****"Did she say anything else?"** **

****"She says she was going somewhere. Although I don't know where, monsieur."** **

****"Merci, poursuivre ensuite." I said and then darted my way out of the cafe as well.** **

****I stopped when I was already out in the open, it was slowly getting dark now since the sun has set for almost an hour now. I tried concentrating on finding her tracks.** **

****So you're a bloodhound now? Elise's voice rang, the memory of me and her when we tracking down Mirabeau's murderer who happened to be my mentor Pierre Bellec.** **

****"Please, enough!" I growled to myself as I closed my eyes shut and tried to shake off the feeling.** **

****When everything seemed a little bit clearer for me now, I followed Celestine's tracks and without hesitation, I instantly darted on the streets as I kept my eye on the trail.** **

******Celestine's POV ******** **

********How shallow am I?** ** ** **

********Moreover, how did I become so blind to notice that he never really saw what I felt? I can't even tell which one of us was the numb and vulnerable one.** ** ** **

********Of course, he still wants his Elise and I think all he ever sees in me is a friend or a fellow Assassin or maybe just a sister. How could I have been so stupid?** ** ** **

********Maybe a little extremist blood will help me calm my nerves. But why was he so kind to me? Was he just trying to persuade me with his looks? Those eyes...? And that smile...? Oh, forget it.** ** ** **

********I have arrived in the Court of Miracles, my landmark was that abandoned tower with a small chapel. I followed the path that leads to Marquis de Sade's whorehouse and den at the same time.** ** ** **

********Casually, I entered the place after just passing by a courtesan and her man licking each other's lip by the frame of the door.** ** ** **

********Making my way to de Sade's throne which was just a used velvet couch on a platform, I found him there as usual with a quill and a piece of parchment.** ** ** **

********"Still working on your poetry, I see." I blurted out.** ** ** **

********"Bonsoir, mon cher." De Sade. "Anything I can do to help?"** ** ** **

********"I was about to ask you the same thing. See, I have heard of another brothel who abuses the girls there—it's a shame to know that such pleasant creatures as you women are being beaten by brash idiots."** ** ** **

********I scoffed at that statement but accepted it, "Where is that brothel?"** ** ** **

********"In the district of Temple. It's called the Rosetta."** ** ** **

********"I never thought that brothels could have names."** ** ** **

********"So did I."** ** ** **

********"I'll see to it that the girls are safe. And once they set foot under your management, make sure they're alright."** ** ** **

********"Ahh, as if I wouldn't take care of those angels. Now, off you go."** ** ** **

********I went my way, scaled the walls and then began to cross rooftops as I headed for the Temple district. When I was there already, I noticed that the streets are getting more and more filled with courtesans—either wearing there flashing dresses or their nightgowns—I knew that I was close, I just have to rely on my sheer instinct.** ** ** **

********Walking along the street, with just one sniff I instantly smelled the stench of what seems to be the bodily fluid that comes out of you when you climax. It was also horribly mixed with the stench of the slums.** ** ** **

********Oh, Dio Mio… I muttered mentally but I pushed myself to keep going.** ** ** **

********Putting my sleeve under my nose to at least inhale the normal scent of air, I went on and found the entrance swarmed with extremists so to avoid any detection I scampered my way to the wall of the building next to me and I was choosing between firing a Berserk Blade at the brute and the lancer or just throw a Poison Gas bomb at them or maybe a Phantom Blade straight in the face.** ** ** **

********But before I could even start my own fun, I eyed on two snipers on separate balconies—yet those balconies were within the radius of the brothel. The closest one to me got a Phantom Blade into his temple where he least expected it and then I transferred to his spot and retrieved the dart from his skull although a little bloody.** ** ** **

********Dispatching the next one overhead, I hit the brute just a few feet down from where I'm standing with a Berserk Blade to the shoulder. I watched him go groggy and then scream in madness as he succumbed to the drug and then started a rampage.** ** ** **

********His companions were both confused and shocked with the sudden commotion but they had no choice but to attack their drugged brute. I always drug the brute because his axe is hell-deadly. If not the brute, then the lancer or perhaps the sniper.** ** ** **

********I waited for them to cluster together for me to kill them all with a poison bomb. When they were all so occupied with the crazy brute, that is the time for me to throw the poison bomb and then watched the gas emit and then choke them internally as they inhale the green gas. They were coughing out blood and phlegm and they caught it with their bare arms and sleeves. I saw the look on their faces as they spit out blood and yellowish-green bile—they seem scared and they don't look as tough as they were before their death arrived in a hood.** ** ** **

********When most of them slumped down lifelessly to the ground, making the citizens scared, a few were left alive. I waited for the fog to subside and then air-assassinated the survivors—there were only three of them, I took the third one down with the edge of my sword.** ** ** **

********I looted them first before barging in the brothel. I still wasn't prepared to what I am about to see once I open the door to that brothel.** ** ** **

********I kicked the door down and then found a few extremists forcefully romancing and molesting the girls—to my astonishment they looked so young—as I interrupted their love time, I interrupted their lives with large gashes in their stomachs and necks, spilling their insides and their blood. One girl approached me and asked me to save the others from the brothel owner, and I felt myself sink down as I found her bruised at the neck, breasts, and arms—her dress seemed to be torn away harshly from an extremist that I just probably killed.** ** ** **

********She pointed to where the abusive owner would be, and I told them all to wait here. The cowardly bastard was upstairs.** ** ** **

********I rushed upstairs and then heard moaning from one room—their moans don't seem to sound satisfied at all so I broke the door down and found the owner molesting one girl with her wrists tied up to one of the posts of the bed and the other girl was being whipped with a horse crop.** ** ** **

********I just scarred myself for the sake of saving fellow women. But at least the killing was worth the fun and thrill.** ** ** **

********"You disgust me, man."** ** ** **

********He stopped with the tied-up girl and the one being whipped and then turned to me.** ** ** **

********"What are you going to do, mademoiselle?" he was cackling as he was licking his lips maniacally.** ** ** **

********Before he could even lunge at me, I blew a bullet to his heart.** ** ** **

********"That, actually."** ** ** **

********His corpse thumped and then chopped off the ropes of the girl and then gave her back her clothes, I helped the lashed victim get up to her feet.** ** ** **

********"Thank you… thank you…" she whimpered.** ** ** **

********"It's alright. You're safe now. I think I have a better place for all of you to stay." I consoled as I helped her dress up.** ** ** **

********I went downstairs and then called for the valet of the brothel—fortunately, he wanted to eradicate his boss's misdeeds, he just didn't have the courage for it because he was so consumed with fear of the bastard. I asked him to ready a coach for the ladies and head for the Court of Miracles and he was good enough to follow my orders—I paid him a hundred livres for it.** ** ** **

********Just as I exited the brothel, I was surprised to see Arno at the doorstep and he looked over my shoulder to see the big group of liberated courtesans.** ** ** **

********"Too bad, they're about to leave." I sarcastically remarked.** ** ** **

********"No, it's not that… I… I came looking for you." He panted.** ** ** **

********"Sweet of you."** ** ** **

********"No, Celestine…" he growled in exasperation and then dragged me away from the brothel. "I'm serious, I'm sorry about what happened earlier."** ** ** **

********I don't know what to say, the valet boy interrupted us as he notified me that the coach has arrived.** ** ** **

********"Good man, get them out of here and bring them to the Court of Miracles—to the Marquis de Sade."** ** ** **

********"Will do, Miss."** ** ** **

********"We'll talk about this later, I need to go to de Sade."** ** ** **

********"I'm going with you."** ** ** **

********"No, Arno… please."** ** ** **

********"Please, Celestine, I'm begging you."** ** ** **

********I scoffed and then dragged him along with me and then we sat on the driver's seat of the coach. For the entire trip, both of us were wordless.** ** ** **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bon après-midi – Good afternoon
> 
> poursuivre ensuite – carry on then
> 
> Bonsoir, mon cher – Good evening, my dear


	8. Celestine Meets De Sade

As the two of them spend the carriage ride to the Court of Miracles, since the coach was too big to fit the streets and let alone pass through that fallen cross monument in the heart of the place, Celestine dismounts the carriage and opens the door.

"The coach won't fit the street. I think we need to get there on foot."

The girls agreed and then one by one they alighted the carriage.

"Follow me." Celestine says to the group of courtesans.

Arno obviously noticed that Celestine was both avoiding him and ignoring him. She just went without him and so he just tailed her as he went around the cluster of rescued girls.

He still can't say a single word to her while they escort the girls to de Sade's den. The people in the slums did not mind the courtesans being escorted by a pair of mysteriously hooded vigilantes. A few men showed a look of interest at them but still, they felt sympathy for the girls for they were bruised and scarred. Yes, some of them had cuts and wounds on their cheeks—possibly punched by the extremists.

"Have you heard of Marquis de Sade, ladies?" Celestine suddenly opens the conversation.

"Yes, I have heard of him." The girl who approached her says.

Celestine sweetly smiles at the girl and then continued on, "We're almost there anyway."

The walk was a little bit long but as Celestine and Arno got to the den, she told the girls to wait for a while just by the doorway and then she approached de Sade—even though Arno was still walking by her side.

"Ahh, well, that was quicker than I expected." De Sade.

"I tend to finish things quickly to get it over with." Celestine.

"I see you had help." De Sade referring to Arno.

"I did the work alone."

"Then why do you have Arno by your side?"

She didn't answer to this and changed the subject, "The girls are here."

"Ahh, good girl then. Send them in. I'll see to it that they're treated justly than their former owner."

Celestine nodded and then left the brothel and Arno tagged along with her. She still doesn't want to talk to him.

"Celestine!"

No response. She just kept walking.

"Celestine…" Arno panted as he gently takes her by the arm and then turned around.

"What is it this time? I'm heading home."

"Celestine, look I want to apologize about earlier. What can I do to make it up to you?"

"I don't know. Have it your way."

And then she dashes away from him, possibly coming back to the mansion. Arno sighs in defeat and despair as he watches her scale the wall and then vanishes in the rooftops. He takes the other way around and then killed two criminals by surprise—they really never saw it coming. He looted the corpses and then gestured the victim with a nod as a way of saying "You're welcome" and then he heads home.

Upon arriving at the mansion, he goes upstairs and walks up to Celestine's bedroom door. He continuously knocks and tries to talk her out.

**Arno's POV ******

****"Celestine, please come out." I whined.** **

****"Monsieur Arno, mademoiselle Celestine is not here." The maid said.** **

****"Wait, she's not yet home?"** **

****"No, sir."** **

****"Alright then…"** **

****I thought of the other places where could she possibly be, I tried going to the Sanctuary via the hidden entrance and then headed straight to the study hall—that girl loves books and anything in writing to be particular.** **

****"Celestine?"** **

****I think I just broke an unspoken rule of being quiet in the Sanctuary unless I'm in a heated argument or witnessing an important initiation. But in my case, I just screamed Celestine's name and it echoed across the entire building.** **

****Everyone looked at me although I just wasn't sure if she was there too. A few of my fellow Assassins did take notice of me but then returned to their work but none spoke—I was expecting for the sound of a girl.** **

****I rushed upstairs and then Felix was at one of the tables in the aisles of the study.** **

****"Felix? Have you seen Celestine?"** **

****He just nodded at the direction of the main study and then I walked up there hoping that she'd be there. She was at the leftmost side of the study, doing her habit of swinging her legs to and fro whenever she's so indulged with the book she's holding but this time she was reading a scroll. I haven't read much of these scrolls, to be honest.** **

****"Celestine?"** **

****"Yes, Arno?" she didn't lower down her book to face me, she just continued reading.** **

****"May I talk to you in private?"** **

****She didn't speak, she rolled the scroll and then put it back to its rightful place and then walked back to me.** **

****"Yes, of course. I just needed to put it back to the shelf."** **

****"Come with me."** **

****I walked out of the study hall and I heard her footsteps mixing with mine and then we went to the secret entrance and then we stopped as we reached the door back to the mansion. I stopped her there.** **

****"I thought we were going to talk?" Celestine.** **

****"We are… I just—"** **

****"This is quite a place you selected to privately talk—not to mention that we're next to the door leading to the secret entrance to God knows where, we're not the only ones using that passage, you know." She cuts in.** **

****Then I brought her to the room where Thomas de Carneillon's armor used to be caged, we turned right wherein there was this other secluded passageway—I was the one who installed this in the façade of the mansion when I had enough coin.** **

****"So, what is it exactly that you wanted to talk me out so much?" she says as she takes off her gloves and fiddles with her fingernails.** **

****"It's about what happened earlier…"** **

****She looked up, "Oh."** **

****"Look, I really wanted to apologize right after that but I just got so frantic when you walked away from that you didn't give me a chance in explaining—let alone apologizing."** **

****"Hmn…" she sounded doubtful.** **

****"Per piacere, mi dispiace, tesora."** **

****Those words naturally came out of my mouth—as if it was second language to me. I really never thought that I would speak Italian straightly now or maybe because I was so frantic for Celestine to accept my apology but I didn't shallowly think that once I speak in Italian she'll change her mind, no—I wanted to make her know that I was sincere.** **

****"You… you spoke straight Italian…" she muttered.** **

****"Yes, yes… because I wanted to show you how much I mean my apology. Please, Celestine."** **

****"I still… I still can't easily forget about what you did, Arno. I guess you really don't easily notice the feelings of a woman—and her body language."** **

****That was the same thing that Octavien told me before I left the mansion to go look for this girl!** **

****Just as when she attempted to walk away from me again, I instantly grabbed her by the wrist and then pulled her in close to me and I trapped her in my arms.** **

****"You probably hate me, I know… but at least give me a chance to make it up to you."** **

****"I will then. Have it your own way." She spoke in my ear softly as I hugged her but I don't feel her hugging me back.** **

****Merde.** **

****When she said that, I thought that she was going to push me away so as to escape my hold but she just waited for me to finish my embrace. I have no idea what she was trying to imply to that.** **

****It's because she wants to comfort, you idiot. Even if she's not hugging back, she still wants comfort. My mental voice said as I imagined it tapping onto my skull.** **

****As I let go, she just stared at me with a blank face and then turned away from and started walking left. And now I'm left here in the dimly-lit tunnel that leads to the outside world of the Ile de la Cite.** **

****"So, what am I going to do now?" I groaned to myself as I took off my hood.** **

****And in the midst of the silence, all I ever hear is the faintest drop of the thinnest water leaking out of the cracks of the concrete pipes.** **

****Why do I really find it so hard to tell her that I love her? Truly, this time?** **

****Maybe it's because she was preoccupied with the idea that I still remember Elise through her—in which based on Octavien's teachings to me was that it should never be done to any woman of any status.** **

****I thought of those long and hard until I arrived at my bedroom.** **

****I was dead tired and then I removed my coat, my gloves, and my vest but I kept my Hidden Blades at a close proximity within my arm span—let's say I would just put it down on my bedside table and when someone tries to sneak in, with just a snap I would have the blades strapped around my wrists already but burglars are barely seen here, maybe it's because of the presence of the Assassins ever so vaguely present that you feel like something's watching you which is true.** **

****And now I'm going to concoct a plan that will surely make Celestine have her head cooled down on me. Because whether she chooses to deny it or believe that it's just a joke…** **

****I really do love her.** **

******Celestine's POV ******** **

********When he pulled me in, I really had no idea what just happened until I blinked several times in an attempt to wake myself up and later discovered that everything that was happening is really real.** ** ** **

********I was trapped within his arms.** ** ** **

********Secretly, to myself and to nobody else, I always wondered what did it feel like to be on Arno's arms and now that I got my wish—I almost literally exploded on the spot because of the overwhelming feeling of him holding me so tight.** ** ** **

********I really wished I was just dreaming because I told myself that it can't be real…** ** ** **

********But truth be told, everything was real. The whole time, it was really real. And it is no fantasy of the mind at all.** ** ** **

********As much as I felt him tighten his arms around me, I stood there frozen—I really wanted to hug him back but I was still consumed with my anger that he only brought me to the rim of the dome just because he wanted to reminisce and relive the moment when Elise was still alive and they do their routine of watching the sunset every midday.** ** ** **

********It really hurts to know that it was no original… routine. But I tried putting myself up with it and then just decided to shake it all away so that I won't have as many problems as of the moment.** ** ** **

********While enjoying the bliss in his arms, what flashed to my memory was me and him watching the sunset and also the scenario wherein he pointed out that he used to do that with… the other girl.** ** ** **

********"You probably hate me, I know… but at least give me a chance to make it up to you."** ** ** **

********Oh Dio mio, lo ha detto davvero?** ** ** **

********I was about to screech in not-so-hidden joy to tell him that he still has that chance and express it with a little bit of exaggeration and then from my mouth, I replied to him saying,** ** ** **

********"I will then. Have it your own way."** ** ** **

********Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas chez moi?** ** ** **

********And to save myself from the shame and embarrassment, I anticipated for him to let me go so that I could just walk away and seclude myself in my bedroom and at least wait for a miracle as I contemplate. Instead of just nudging myself away from him just like back at the rooftop and I really repented on that—that action of mine made me rude but seriously, I really couldn't control my feelings back then.** ** ** **

********And I left him there in the tunnel…** ** ** **

********Poor Arno.** ** ** **

********If only I could just run back up to him and embrace him but I can't because I was too devoured by shame that I jailed myself in my room.** ** ** **

********I'm sorry, Arno.** ** ** **

********I wish I could tell you that I love you…** ** ** **

********If only I don't get all nervous and uncontrollable when I'm in front of you, especially seeing you smiling… and then those steely eyes…** ** ** **

********Oh for Chrissake, I'll just sleep. It's been a long night anyway.** ** ** **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRENCH:
> 
> Merde – shit
> 
> Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas chez moi? – What's wrong with me?
> 
> ITALIAN:
> 
> Per piacere – Please
> 
> Mi dispiace – I'm sorry
> 
> Tesora – darling
> 
> Dio mio! – My God! (yes, in Italian they switch the arrangement of the words if you noticed)
> 
> Lo ha detto davvero? – did he just really say that?


	9. Doctor, Doctor

**Celestine's POV**

The next morning, I must have slept in because I noticed that the sunlight was so broad and then I instantly jumped out of bed. I didn't need to see anyone—be it Octavien, Siegfried, Felix or Arno—but I do miss my cousin Juliette and her brothers. It's been a while now and I haven't heard from any of them.

If given the time, then maybe I could just play swords with them because those young men are still boys whenever they get a hold of their toys.

Just when I was about to exit the mansion, I saw Arno leaning over that old coach parked in the outer vestibule of the house when I exited through the east door of the first floor—where the stage and dining tables are.

He was staring down at his pocketwatch and when I knew that he's preoccupied with the trinket, I decided to continue walking and just ignore him. Even if the both of us knew what happened last night at the hidden tunnel, I still wanted to make it look like it was nothing to me even though it does meant something significant for me.

Perhaps he still belongs to Elise so I have no right—it's a principle I follow.

I made it through the arch and then decided to go to my cousin's house at the district of Ventre de Paris. I ran and ran as I was getting far away enough from the mansion's radius, scaling a wall of a house and made my way on the rooftops instead.

I like being on rooftops, it makes me feel free and away from all the shite of the world—the shite that we Assassins needed to eradicate if we want to liberate France from Templar tyranny and believe me, it's not that easy.

Leaping from roof to roof, I love the smell of the morning wind slapping me in the face. Feeling the wind blowing my hair and my coat away, it's a definition of freedom.

It's still a little bit far yet. Amazingly, my uncle—my cousins' father—managed to become an incognito Assassin especially when Templars are on the hunt for us even though we're on the hunt for them too. Free-running in the streets as I descend when I knew that I'm gradually losing roof to jump on, I jumped over crates and tables, fences and railings and kind of startled the citizens especially the women.

I was already close to the district of Ventre de Paris until I skidded my boots roughly on the concrete as I spotted two extremists robbing a citizen of money. Jaysus, haven't I seen enough of this?

I really hate those extremists anyways. Drawing out my two Hidden Blades, I steadily closed myself in towards them and without them having the slightest idea that there was a predator behind them—they knew it the moment they felt two blades plunge into each of the back of their windpipes. Their throats spurted out blood both front and back but mostly the front. They gagged some more when I pushed them down to the ground to nudge off my blades from their flesh.

"M-merci…" the victim whimpered.

"Di rien." I replied.

He ran away to safety while I had the cadavers to myself to loot, from their trousers' pockets and their dress coats' pockets, basically every single pocket I know they have in their clothes I looted them here and there until I noticed that a threesome of extremists stopped in their pace, pointed a finger at me and found me suspicious.

Merde!

But I still won't go without a fight. I fear that my blades and sword would wear out and dull for not being used to slice off Templar flesh.

Before they could even register what's coming to them, my blades—still drawn out—plunged into the faces of the brute and the other extremist swordsman. Leaving the other swordsman alive—he's quite scrawny if you'd look at him.

Quite impressive, though. He still managed to get his sword and try and scare me out of this when he showed his intimidating side.

I've seen scrawnier men than you, yet you have my pity.

Clashing with each other's steel, I staggered him and finished him by sticking the edge of my sword to his neck and plunge it in deeper as I kneecap him.

Blood splattered onto my clothes but I didn't care, I continued to loot their bodies until more and more groups of extremists come after me.

Brilliant.

They were closing me into a circle, making me the center of the eye and I looked around thinking which one should I kill first—the lancers, the brutes, the bombers or the swordsmen who are equipped with a pistol?

Just before they could even charge, one lancer screamed and fell dead to the ground and startled the others—they all thought it was me as they looked with shock and annoyance.

That shot was a Phantom Blade... But where did it come from?

And then the Phantom Blades came in succession as they took out enough brutes and lancers and left a few bombers and then I threw in a smoke bomb and thick clouds begin to emit on us.

**Arno's POV**

When she found me leaning on that used coach in the outer foyer of the mansion coming from the east door, she just ignored me and went on and then went on with her running wherever she's going.

I saw where she went and I have her trace as I concentrate.

She literally had no idea that I was following her. Wait, did she know that I was following her? Or was she ignoring me? Or was she so occupied with her errand or perhaps her free-running on the rooftops?

Nevermind, I'm still going after her.

She's heading for Ventre de Paris, what is she going to do there?

I was on a rooftop as I watched over her when she was already on the ground. I saw those extremists that she killed and there were about to spot her looting the bodies, any moment their awareness would rise up and suspect her and come after her.

I watched her charge those three extremists, leaving one for the sword as she plunged her blades through the faces of the first two. Impressive.

I had a vantage point of the intersecting streets and she was at the center where all directions end up meeting and she was later cornered by almost an army of them. I knew I had to take action so I killed one with a Phantom Blade, I killed the lancer first and when they thought it was her, I loaded as much Phantom Blades as I can and then killed them in succession so that she won't wear herself out in killing at least a dozen of them.

She threw out a smoke bomb and then that was cue to get down there and kill the others. I killed the ones in the outer circle, and I heard some more agonizing screams meaning she's killing them as well. When everything felt quiet, I slowly stepped back until I reached the center of the smoke and then my back touched another and as I looked over my shoulder...

Celestine.

She was pointing her pistol in the outer circle of the smoke, waiting for it to subside.

Her eyes showed almost no emotion but I could've sworn that she curled the side of her lip upwards. We readied ourselves as we danced in circles with our weapons pointed to the enemy wherever they are.

We killed most of them already and only a few lancers and bombers were left. In my peripheral vision, and also Celestine's, there was a bomber with his sword at the ready, he's going to aim either at me or her. Although he did make one mistake...

He thought that keeping my eye on the one in front of me would distract me as he takes a flash bomb from his pocket and before he could even throw it down to trigger it, Celestine was fast enough to shoot him at the knee and following a second bullet into the head.

And that triggered the rage of the others. And so we charged when they least expected it. As I got busy killing the ones at my front, I suddenly heard my name followed by a gunshot.

She just shot one in the head, I saw the hole coming from the back of the head and then to the front, before it could even stab me with his sword. She smirked and continued fighting and shooting, and I did the same.

We sure did cause quite a stir in the street and we had to make sure that the police won't arrive in the middle of this huge skirmish.

When all of them were dead, Celestine grabbed me by the hand and we ran.

"Police are coming! There's no time to loot, Arno. Come on!"

Scampering to a nearby wall, she got on top of the roof first and she helped me by pulling me up and accidentally I landed on fours over her and it sure was awkward and at that moment, I knew we shared that glance.

She escaped the scenario by crawling to the edge of the roof and saw the police already swarming in and checking the bodies.

"Good God! What a mess!" One policeman exclaimed and I heard her giggle and crawl away from the edge and slump onto the surface in exhaustion.

She continued giggling but she was slowly bursting in laughter.

"What's so funny?"

"Their reaction, dearest Arno. Come to think of it, it's kind of unbelievable that we managed to kill all of them in a single sitting."

"Hmn..."

"Oh and by the way, grazie."

"Huh?"

"Grazie. For saving me back there when they were beginning to swarm into me in a circle. I would have been dead by now if it weren't for you."

She sits upright and basks in the afternoon sunlight and then I thought for some things while I look at her.

"You're welcome."

She smiled as a reply.

"I would never leave you alone."

She slowly opens her eyes and then looks at me with a face that I can't tell what kind of emotion is she trying to express. Her lips slightly parted maybe because of disbelief and then she turned away from me again, I noticed her cheeks were flushing in bright red and I am particularly sure that it wasn't the sunlight.

She stands up and then goes to the opposite of the roof that leads to the other street.

"Où allez-vous?"

"La maison de mes cousins." she replies as she nears to the edge.

"Posso vieni con te?"

A short quiet moment first and she glances over her shoulder, "Va bene. Vieni."

The two of us went running like the wind as we felt the tails of our coats flap in the air as we jump. We had gloves so it was no trouble for us scraping the very end of our nails—which is painful and would make you wince—as we grab onto ledges.

As I ran, I observed how Celestine jumps and makes her form in landing—she crouches and immediately darts forward and she still has the grace. She was also graceful when jump and she smoothly grabs onto ledges as she moves forward. When I got ahead of her, I watched her come towards my direction and I saw the focus in her eyes as she free-runs and then leaps across the gap and then grabs onto the gutter of the roof.

There are a few things I did notice: her hair sways finely, she had this slight smile as if the excitement and thrill of running and leaping from roof to roof was her ecstasy, her coat's tail billows dramatically in the wind as she jumps or runs and her hazel eyes shine brightly in broad daylight.

"Sbrigati, Arno!" she says while laughing as she was passing by me.

I caught up with her and then we finally reached Saint-Thomas-d'-Aquin district, we walked our way to her cousins' house and when she knocked on the door, I sensed something strange.

"Juliette! C'est moi Celestine."

She knocked once more and then called her cousin's name.

"Celestine... Let me take care of this." I say as I gently push her to the side, taking out my lockpicker set I inserted the two picks into the keyhole and tried my luck with it.

Chk.

When the two of us heard the latch click open, she was hesitant in opening the door so I pushed the door open and it really felt suspicious. The two of us stepped inside the mansion and then closed the door for safer measures, we stalked the first floor of the house and the place has been ransacked, no doubt.

"Good God..." she muttered in growing fright.

I investigated and then saw the cabinets displaying expensive porcelain figures broken. There were also traces of blood that were scattered in all directions, you can't even tell how many were killed or beaten or bloodied because there was so much blood that it's evident enough that it didn't belong to just one person.

Celestine's breathing slowly became labored and she's beginning to whimper, she isn't screaming because she thinks that there are extremists possibly hiding for an ambush. I looked to the living room and the center table had a peculiar clue, there was a bloody knife and there was also a beret and only brutes wear these kinds of caps.

"Arno... My other cousin's dead... Gerard is dead, they stabbed him several times, I checked him. I can't find the others, I want Juliette." she whines.

I went up to her and held her by the shoulders, "Alright, calm down. We'll find them upstairs but first I need you to focus and stay alert, alright?"

She nods and wipes off the tears from her eyes. I held her hand and both of us were quietly stalking the staircase, just when we were about to reach the top of the stairs we heard voices and one of them was whimpering girl.

"That's Juliette!" Celestine quietly exclaims.

I shushed her and then we listened.

"She's a beauty, isn't she?"

"No! Leave me alone! Insubordinate arseholes!"

"Ooh, I like her. She's a feisty one, eh?"

Based from my hearing, there are three enemies. That should be Juliette. Celestine suddenly yet quietly pushes her way through me and then appeared in the doorway, she puts her finger to her lips to signal Juliette not to give her away and then the girl who was on her knees, as I peeked a little from the door's frame, continues whining because she's so consumed with fear and trauma by now.

Celestine aimed her pistol but she's not yet shooting. What is she waiting for?!

The extremist behind Juliette pushed her down to make her stand on fours and he was lifting up her skirt, I looked at Celestine and her eyes were focused on that one behind Juliette. Just as he was about to put his cock in, Celestine already put a bullet into his eye and this alarmed the two other extremists and she used the second consecutive shot to the one next to Juliette while I took the one in front of her with a pistol as well.

"Celestine!" Juliette screeched and then threw herself into Celestine's arms.

"Arno! Gunner at the window!" Celestine suddenly screamed but I was too late to react, the sniper had already hit me in my bicep and Celestine gunned him down.

I thudded to the floor and then I'm practically writhing in agonizing pain.

"Arno!" Celestine knelt beside me and cradled my head. "You're going to be alright, just hold on! Juliette, search their pockets, there's got to be some cloth or bandage, give me two."

Juliette obediently searched the bodies and when she handed a bandage to Celestine, the first one served as a tourniquet and then she wrapped the second one around my arm. Celestine managed to move me to the wall so that I could lean and try to relax, she caressed my cheek and then Juliette approached.

"You can stay here for a while and clean his wound, Celestine. We still have medicine and supplies here."

"S'il vous plaît faire... Vous allez être bien, Arno."

I tried breathing in and out slowly just so I won't bleed out more because of panic and then Celestine frantically and impatiently waited for her cousin to fetch the medical supplies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRENCH:
> 
> Où allez-vous? – Where are you going?
> 
> La maison de mes cousins – my cousins' house (Wow, how complicated is French? Italian is less complex though but still, it's amazing)
> 
> C'est moi – It's me
> 
> S'il vous plaît faire – Please do
> 
> Vous allez être bien – You're going to be alright
> 
> ITALIAN:
> 
> Posso vieni con te? – Can I go with you?
> 
> Vieni – come
> 
> Sbrigati – forward


	10. Search for the Human Tanner

**Arno's POV**

When Juliette finally arrived with the medical supplies that Celestine needed, her cousin stayed there as an aid and at the same time a nurse. Celestine was the doctor.

Celestine takes off my blue coat, unbuttons my tawny-gold vest so that I wouldn't be constricted when I breathe and then my white loose undergarment shirt was patched with bright red and a torn hole to where the bullet had hit me and it was still oozing blood in a critical level, as if it's a plumbing hole with all the fluid coming out.

"Sorry, Arno." Celestine gasps as she begins her operation. "Just stay with me, that's all I need for you to do and breathe steadily, alright? As much as you can…"

She tears apart my sleeve with her Hidden Blade, ever so carefully despite her shaky hands, she managed to cut off my long sleeve and revealed the shot injury. At the corner of my eye, I noticed Juliette grimacing and making a retching face—the girl's not a tad for morbid, I suppose.

"Juliette, give me the clean dry rag."

As she gave Celestine the rag, she put it close to my mouth. "Bite on this, it's agonizing to hear you scream, trust me."

What…?

I bit on it as hard as I could and before she could even begin to fish for the bullet stuck in my biceps using the tongs, she kissed my forehead and then she takes a peek through the hole in my flesh.

"Do you see it?" Juliette spoke in a weak tone.

If she couldn't take this much morbidity, why is she watching her cousin performing a removal operation?

"I see it—the graphite-colored one there." Celestine replies and then she looks at me one more time and I could tell that even she cannot handle this but she has to—she's my only hope from being a cripple.

There was a bowl of water and another clean rag soaked into it, she picks up the rag and squeezes out the excess water and cleans out the border of my wound—the water somehow had a nauseous smell and she said it was a kind of disinfectant medicine, what's worse is that once the medicine mixed in with my blood on the outer rim of the wound it started to bubble a little as she dabs it and I winced at the pain. She rinsed it once again and gently rubbed the rag on the flesh wound, now that it's swollen and pinkish-red in color with the blood washed away, she grabs for the tongs and then shows a look of guilt at me.

She tries her best to ignore my muffled screams as I bite on the rag, beads of sweat squeezed through my face and trickled down to my neck like how a sponge spurts out suds and water from its holes—she inserted the tongs into my flesh and I noticed that her fingers were flinching.

I felt the cold metal give out a tingling sensation in my muscle and then that sensation traveled across my entire body and even gave a big impact of tensing on my spine—I literally flinched, my entire body just flinched because of the cold metal piercing into my muscles.

She holds me by the neck to calm me down and return to my first and original position and then she does it again with the tongs—she wasn't able to get the bullet out of me the first time because I flinched too much.

"Alright, I'm sorry, Arno but I need to do this a second time—and this time, try not to flinch too much. Capito?"

I nodded and then she continued to do her surgical work again. She breathed deeply to get back her concentration, she tried to ease off her fingers' tension and then inserted the tongs again into my flesh.

GOD, IT'S SO COLD AND FUCKING PAINFUL!

S'il vous plaît, faire de ce plus rapidement!

"Essayez d'être encore." Celestine says as she is still grabbing for the bullet. "I got it… I got it!"

"Slowly, Celestine!" Juliette.

"J'essaie! Il est difficile de faire bouger sur!"

When I felt something hollow and loose, that's when I groggily looked down on Celestine's hands holding tongs and between the two ends of the tongs was a little black bloody ball. The bullet… Celestine finally took it off.

And all that's left is to wash my wound again.

"Juliette, bring me another bowl with clean water—put no medicine."

"Yes, Celestine." She goes scurrying to the other room.

To not waste time, Celestine dips the rag with the water mixed with that nauseous antiseptic again and then she dabs it on my wound again—it still hurts, it still makes me wince and hiss—but she's gentle with it. When Juliette returned with the basin of pure water, Celestine takes another rag and then dips it to clean off my wound again. Somehow, I felt that Celestine is better than any doctor I have ever gone to and she treats my wound better than any medicine I have taken.

Mother used to tell me something before when I scraped my arm.

Arno, any medicine can clean and cure a wound. A doctor may treat it and prevent it from infection. But wounds heal faster when love and care are in every dab of the linen, in every wipe of the cloth, in every drop of medicine, in every wrap of the dressing and up to the knot of the bandage to cover up the wound.

And then I asked her how I would know if someone put their love and care into healing my wound.

You can see it in their actions and expressions, my dear son. You could see it the way they treat you and your wound, their concern, their care and their priority of saving you or curing your injury—that's what matters. That's how you can tell if that person who is healing your wound really cares about you—like me, I'm your mother and what I am doing right now is out of love and care because I don't want this scrape of yours to get any worse.

Out of my childish curiosity, I ask another question. I asked her, "What about the doctors? What do they differ from your care and love to heal my wound?"

She answers,

A doctor is a professional at these kinds of things. They heal wounds and cure the sick, yes? But sometimes, most doctors only see patients as a profit or perhaps just a plain subject of their profession. Only a few doctors get to give out compassion to their patient—a total stranger. Your loved one's care for you differ from doctors because no matter what, you are important to them, they don't need your coin for profit—they just want what's best for you, they just want to show you how much they care, they want to show you how much they love you and how much you mean to them. It's a big difference, my dear Arno, but do you understand?

I nodded to her at that question and once she was already covering my wound, she said one more thing.

Someday, when you're a grown handsome young man—brave and strong—you will understand these things better. One day, you will meet someone who sees you as someone valuable. They will care for you even about the simplest and smallest of things of you. They will desperately try everything to help you—parce qu'ils vous aiment.

Her last words echoed in my head and then I looked at Celestine, she was already drying out my wound and applying new medicine on my wound and I didn't feel any tingling pain at all—let alone, I didn't feel the pain anymore. No, she didn't drug me or numb me, I know it. In my vision, everything seemed slow and soft, and she was already putting the dressing and she held it down with her hand and I felt no pain whatsoever—it means she was holding it down gently. I watched get another bandage as Juliette was handing over for her and leave the room to possibly get another set of supplies and then Celestine was already wrapping my arm around with the linen.

Just when she was about to finish the linen by tying the two short ends and as she was already tying it, I realized that I could still move my forearm and I lifted it up with all my remaining strength and then my fingers crawled across her cheek. Oh, her cheek's so soft. Her only reaction is that she looked at me with surprise because she never saw my forearm coming and my fingers touching and running across her cheek.

I managed to hold her face and then she held it and pressed herself warmly on my open palm.

"Ti amo, mia cara Celestine." I muttered weakly to her.

And I swear, I saw a tear roll down on her other cheek and as she heard that, she was smiling. In a split second, I felt her lips press down on mine—her sweet, tender, warm lips were locked onto my lips.

I have to admit, she kisses passionately—either it's the way how she really kisses or she just got this as a lucky shot but I really think that it's how she kisses even though I have no idea if this is her first or second!

When she pulled away, her eyes were mine as well. She licks her lips and bites her lower lip and then clears her throat so as to take away the awkwardness. Out of the blue, I reached out for her and pulled her closer to me to kiss once more.

And that really sent out a lot of sparks, if you ask me.

"H-How… How are you now that the bullet's off of you now?"

"Feeling quite better than best, actually."

"Bien."

Juliette barges into the room and then Celestine abruptly stands up.

"What is it?"

"Noe and Quennel…" Juliette whimpered. "They're… they're…"

I think all three of us know what that means already.

Celestine helped Arno stand up and then they went to investigate the mansion. The whole house was a big one and Juliette's two older brothers could be anywhere. The third born son, Gerard, who was only 18 years of age—with Juliette being the youngest of all at 17—was found dead by Celestine when she and Arno were investigating the first floor before coming to the girl's rescue. When Celestine followed Juliette to the other room of the second floor—which is spaciously huge—Arno and Celestine lockpicked the rooms and their first attempts were fruitless, the rooms they opened were empty until they heard Juliette scream.

The both of them got alerted by the screamed and knew that it was a bad sign. When the two Assassins got to the room where Juliette was standing there frozen and fear-stricken, Celestine's heart went to her throat as she saw Noe, the second son at 20, and Quennel, who was the eldest at 23 were both dead and their bodies were on top of the other.

Their death was gruesome and inhumane. Noe was hacked at the skull possibly with a brute's axe while Quennel was shot several times at the torso. Their blood has already dried from a puddle to a stain.

Celestine's leg dragged her towards the cadavers of her two beloved cousins—her playmates during her childhood—and she felt weak and fell to her knees and cried as she gently pulls Noe away from Quennel and drops herself over them and starts to cry and scream in heavy sorrow.

Arno walks to her, kneels alongside her and tried to embrace her with at least one arm. While Juliette, traumatized at the sight of her two dead eldest brothers, sits down on the floor and cries in such sadness.

"What… How… How did this fucking happen?!" Celestine. "Why would they do this?!"

"We were… in the dining hall—me, my brothers and father. Until they kicked the door down… They killed father first… accused him of treason against the king and… they killed him they said they were going to bring his body to the tannery to make leather out of his skin…" Juliette.

"Your nursemaids?"

"Raped and then killed. I didn't know where they brought the nursemaids' bodies…"

"What about Gerard, Noe, and Quennel?!"

"They tried to protect me and hide me from the Templars but… Gerard, he stood up… and they—"

"Killed him. I know. I saw him first. But what about Noe and Quennel?"

"They tried to hide me to the other room but the extremists got hold of me… I don't know if Noe and Quennel killed them first or did the extremists… did it first and then… got away. I really don't know what really happened back here because they brought me to the other room already…"

In all of Celestine's investigatory experiences, by far this could be the most difficult murder case to close. But they have the evidence and an eye-witness, it's just that there are no other witnesses unless there were outside the mansion.

"Who's the Templar in charge of this?"

"I… I don't know… St. Just was his last name, I think?"

"I know him! He's the man who orders coats made out of human skin tanned to leather." Arno.

"Where can we find him?" Celestine suddenly sounded demanding.

"There should be witnesses around willing to give his whereabouts."

"But first we need to put Juliette somewhere safe."

A few moments of thinking, both Celestine and Arno gave each other the glance indicating that they were thinking of the same thing.

"The mansion." Both said in unison.

But before bringing Juliette to the mansion by coach, the three of them worked together in looking for some clues. In the second floor, they searched in Celestine's uncle's room in which Celestine found a letter with the Templar seal and when she opened the letter, it read,

M. Sauveterre

It is my greatest pleasure to give you letter as I plan to visit you. My intended purpose is to solve the conflict that we had yesterday. As civilized gentlemen, we do both know that it was all unintentional and so to be polite, I invite myself to your household and I hope that we can fix this like true men but it would be quaint with a pot of tea. And also, I would like to see your beautiful children as well, especially your fine daughter, Juliette.

Should we talk about more of this letter tomorrow, I would happily oblige.

Signed, J.

"J is for Just. This should be helpful." Celestine flaps the letter on her palm as she thinks.

As for Arno, he noticed that there was a coat hanging peculiarly in one of the boy's bedrooms. What's more peculiar is that the coat appeared to be leather but when Arno took his glove and ran his thumb across one part of the coat, he noticed that it doesn't look like leather from animal hide when he tried recalling his past investigations about St. Just…

"Leather out of human skin, of course. And it doesn't have blood on it, strange yet useful."

"Celestine?" Juliette calls as she was in the foyer of the second floor.

"Yes?" she comes out from her uncle's bedroom.

"Does this help in any way?" Juliette hands her older cousin a piece of parchment as she read it, an address was written on it and turns out it was the address of the tannery.

"We should ask some people who saw the crime from outside. Any bit is substantial." Celestine.

"Where is that tannery to be exact?" Arno.

"To the slums. To where most of the tanneries are." Celestine. "But first, let's give my cousins some respect."

They carried the bodies and then they buried them in the back of the house—in the garden. Arno managed to carry Quennel even though with a bad arm but he says he can take it. As they say a little prayer for the three sons, Juliette's household will remain abandoned.

As they got out of the mansion, Celestine was worried for her cousin and decided to bring her to her new home.

"I don't think Juliette should come with us. We must bring her to the mansion now." Celestine says and Juliette has no objection to this.

"Where are we going to get a coach?" Arno.

Celestine looked around and then she found an empty coach, she whistled at it and it stopped. The three of them approached it and bargained the coachman to bring Juliette safely to Ile de la Cite.

"I swear to you, man, if I come home and if she says a word about any possible shite you would do to her, I will cut you down. Comprendre?"

"Oui, oui, Mademoiselle." The coachman whimpered.

"Homme bon." Celestine says as she tosses a small pouch of livres to the coachman, possibly three hundred and then Juliette boarded the carriage as she kissed Celestine on the cheek.

"Now, let's go investigate." Arno.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITALIAN:
> 
> Capito? – Understand?
> 
> Ti amo – I love you
> 
> Mia cara – my dear
> 
> FRENCH:
> 
> S'il vous plaît, faire de ce plus rapidement! – Please, make this over quickly!
> 
> Essayez d'être encore – Try to be still
> 
> J'essaie! Il est difficile de faire bouger sur! – I'm trying! It's hard to budge it out.
> 
> parce qu'ils vous aiment – because they love you
> 
> Comprendre? – Understand?
> 
> Homme bon – Good man


	11. Rescue Attempt

As Celestine and Arno went to find some clues, they decided to come back inside the house in order to search for material clues—Arno already covered the bloody knife that was obviously used to stab Gerard to death and then Celestine investigated in the room where Noe and Quennel's bodies were and she picked up a note and it was written angrily as the pressure of the handwriting made itself embossed on the other side of the paper.

"What is that?" Arno walks up to Celestine.

"An angry note, obviously." She hands him the note.

"It says Palais du Luxembourg."

"Is there any strong faction in that district? Hidden within the security of a tavern, perhaps?" Celestine.

"It is where most of the extremists are and if my instincts are correct, this must be where the culprit is hiding. Who knows? Like what you said, every bit is substantial. I know that there are a lot of taverns in that said district but we still need to look for more clues, we can't jump to conclusions."

"Good point." At that point, Celestine suddenly became cold and blunt towards Arno.

While searching and fishing for more clues, Celestine remembered what happened back there in the other room when she was still treating Arno's gunshot wound.

Why did I even kiss him in the first place? Even though it's an impulse, it doesn't seem to be a valid excuse to get away with it.

It just happened. That's it. If I need to explain it further, it could take me some time but for now, I want to make it look like it was nothing to me.

Truth be told, I'm still mad at him for what he did back there in the mansion's rooftop. I don't get over it that easily. He has to prove me that he really does love me—and that it's not some sick joke to trick my heart and mind into this shite.

Anyways, back to work…

"So there's the note, the knife, the letter… Why do I feel like it doesn't seem to fill the void?" She mumbles to herself as she taps her chin while thinking hard.

"Hey, Celestine?"

"Yes?"

"I forgot to tell you that the human-skin coat is a major clue."

"We've already figured out that it's St. Just."

"He's too high profile to do such a crime like this. Surely, he sent someone to fill his shoes in completing this sick psychopathic errand."

"Alright then. The tannery district is our only answer towards the coat. Did you find anything else, Arno?"

"Still looking."

They dug through the house's rooms, drawers, nooks, and crannies and even in the chests as the two of them pick at the locks.

"Arno, these are the only clues we can find. How about we start talking to the people within the house's radius, alright?"

"Let's go then." He abruptly takes her by the arm but she tries to budge and succeeds.

This stopped Arno when he was just about the door and then he turned to her.

"Is there something wrong?" Arno.

"None at all."

But obviously Arno got the point that she doesn't want her hand being held—for some reason.

It's about Elise again, hm? She's hard to convince but she's worth it, I just know it.

They exit the mansion and managed to talk with the people within the mansion's proximity.

Celestine interviewed one peasant woman about what happened to the mansion. This woman had a rowdy French accent.

"Oh yes, there were extremists breaking into the house but one in the group was wearing those fancy aristocrat suits. He could be the one in-charge."

"By any chance, do you recognize the man's features?"

"Oh you mean the one in charge, my dear? Yes, I remembered his face clearly. I believe I know him—he's known across town."

"Who is he?"

"He's monsieur Antoine LaSalle."

Celestine thought about this and by remembering the name mentally, she recognizes the man. After the rumored death of St. Just's former chaperone, he hired a new one just as inhumane and sadistic as his employer and that is Antoine LaSalle.

And then Arno interviewed a merchant who saw the extremists and LaSalle go into the household.

"Did you witness any of the crime that happened in that particular house?"

"Saw them coming in through the gate and then the household. I thought that they were up for a visit but then I started hearing some screams that of a girl and then a few young men seem to fight back but they weren't so lucky. I knew that their leader was someone so peculiar—never trust someone surrounded by extremists, I should say."

"Leader?"

"Well, yes, a man in a fancy suit like an aristocrat would and yet he surrounds himself with bastards like the extremists."

"I see."

As Arno and Celestine regrouped, they exchanged gathered information.

"So, what how are your findings?" Celestine.

"The merchant said that he thought that the leader accompanied by a bunch of extremists was just a visitor but he heard Juliette scream and her brothers fight back." Arno.

"Did the merchant state a name?"

"No, he only described the leader dressing up like an aristocrat."

"He's Antoine-Thomas LaSalle."

"What?"

"The new chaperone of St. Just. The chaperone's name is Antoine-Thomas LaSalle—he's my cousins' murderer."

"Should we ask some more people?" Arno proposed.

Celestine eyed on an elderly coachman standing by his carriage and then she spoke softly of him, "How about him? He's bound to witness the crime as the others."

"Let's give it a try."

The two of them approach the coachman before they could even scare him away, the two Assassins greeted the old man first before initiating the interrogation.

"Bonjour monsieur. Je l'espère ne vous dérange pas, mais nous voulons que vous répondez à quelques questions." Celestine.

"Bien sûr. Comment puis-je aider?" the coachman was not at all terrified by the sight of two mysterious hooded Assassins approaching him and engaging a short moment of interrogation to him.

"Avez-vous vu quelques extrémistes prennent en captivité d'un homme d'âge moyen et éventuellement lui apportaient quelque part?" Celestine smiles as politely as she can while she asks.

"Je continue à entendre les bêtes qui menacent le pauvre homme doit être apporté à la tannerie." The coachman nodded to the direction of the tannery district.

"That's in Saint-Jacques." Celestine.

During the entire conversation, Arno was shocked to hear Celestine speak in perfect French.

"Merci, monsieur."

"Di rien, mademoiselle."

"Let's go."

As the two of them shuffled backward away from their witness, the two of them headed for the direction of the tannery.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Stop it." Celestine.

"Nothing, it's just that…"

"What?"

"I never heard you speak straight French."

"Well, now you have just a few moments ago."

Arno knew that he shouldn't let his guard down and that he should not lose focus of the entire mission, even if Celestine is there—he just really needs to focus and let his thoughts aside for now and continue them later when everything is finished and settled.

Apparently, this will not end quickly. Especially that this matters to Celestine so much. She's desperate and hopeful to know if her uncle is still alive—she prays that he's still alive although injured.

They sprinted on the streets and when they had enough momentum and found a wall to scale on. When Celestine marks the wall as her target when she was in her perfect momentum she springs from the dust and her jumping distance was unusual—because when she came to the wall, she already had hold of the iron ring on the wall and then scampered to the top of the roof.

"She never ceases to amaze me! Really!" Arno tells himself as he pants for air and then follows Celestine as he climbs onto the same wall that she just scurried on.

"Celestine!" Arno screams, not caring about the fact that he might alert the crowd beneath the roof.

But at a crowded place like the districts of France? You cannot even tell if the voice came from who-knows-where so it's perfectly fine for Arno to keep screaming Celestine's name until she takes notice of it.

**Celestine's POV**

"Celestine!" there he goes crying out my name.

"Celestine, wait!" and again.

And still I kept running. I really want to stop when he has already said my name the second time already but I really want to save my uncle.

If I don't, I don't know what toll it will bring down on poor Juliette. I don't even know what to say to her if I fail…

But I don't want to think about the conclusion of this first. I have to make sure uncle is alive. I don't want to waste any second—every drop of time is so precious that it's actually a matter of life and death.

Maybe I'm so flushed in this bloodlust to kill St. Just's new chaperone who killed my male cousins and almost had Juliette raped and then probably later killed that I really have no reason to stop running—even if Arno keeps calling my name.

Let him call me and chase me for all I care. I am more focused into heading for Saint-Jacques and wipe out the bastards infesting the place worse than rats in the canals and sewers.

As we were almost getting close to Saint-Jacques, two rooftops jumped later and the next roof that I was about to jump on had a sniper stationed near the chimney.

Either I'm getting close to the tannery or maybe I'm just entering a restricted area.

Either way, before he could even see me coming I have already drew out my Hidden Blade and as I passed by him swiftly and thinly like a ghostly gust, I sliced on his neck and he never realized that he was bleeding out in the throat, I stopped my pace as I scraped the soles of my boots hard on the brick making a few tidbits of concrete fall off from the gutter, I stopped in a crouching sitting position—I stopped to watch him die and bleed and besides, I'm getting tired with all the running—and when he touched his neck and finds scarlet drops falling to his arm. He was losing blood fast and he thumped to the brick roof and fountained out the remaining fresh drops of blood from his vessels and bloodstreams.

"That should do it. At least Arno won't have the trouble of getting detected." I told myself and then I noticed that there was a silhouette with a flapping coattail.

Oh look there he goes.

He grabs onto the ledge and pulls himself up, he takes sight of me and then I took a deep breath and start running again to Saint-Jacques.

"We're running out of time, Arno. I can't wait for you!" I said as I kept running and sped some more when I was heading towards a large gap.

"Celestine! You're not going to make it!" Arno.

We'll see!

I didn't let him degrade me, not in my time of the thrill. As I made the leap across, for some reason I must have jumped too soon because even though I covered the gap with my jump I didn't grab hold of the ledge and instead of letting myself fall to an imminent death, I clawed on the wall literally scraping off the material of my glove and I could have sworn that the tip of my fingers have slightly felt the searing heat as I claw on the concrete wall of the building until I safely grabbed on an embossed line of bricks. And I looked up, guessing that I must have fallen at least one-fourth of the building's height—it was a big building after all—and I'm not at least ten feet above the ground, more like fifteen feet from the ground.

Call it a near-death experience but I knew Arno had already made the jump successfully. I must have let my pride get the best of me. My pride and my bloodlust.

I climbed and climbed until I found a hand reaching out to help me pull me up back to the rooftop. I looked up and it was Arno eager to help me up.

"Come on, Celestine. Grab on now."

I grabbed onto his and he pulled me up as my legs helped my scurry back up. But grabbing onto Arno's hand to pull me back up does not signify that I'm weak. I admit that I may have been prideful and blinded because of my thirst for vengeance but that doesn't mean I'm poisoned by revenge.

"Let's go!" he says.

Amazing, even though he has a bad arm he can still scale and free-run like nothing happened.

Like nothing happened…

We were close to Saint-Jacques and when we arrived in the entire stretch of tannery shacks and taking it by foot, I coughed whenever I breathe in and then take a sniff in my clean sleeve because that's the closest thing I got in having clean air to breathe on.

"Don't worry, you're not the only one." Arno.

"Let's just keep going." I muttered with my mouth and nose pressed on my sleeve.

I tried concentrating as we stalk the street of the tanning shops, looking back and forth for any suspicious activity or any unusual body language amongst the tanners.

"Well, they all look like everything is in… everything is typical…"

"Not typical enough." Arno muttered.

"What was that?"

He nodded slightly at the west street—another extension of the shops but this time it was mixed with peasants' houses but majority are still tanning shacks. I was staring at Arno when he was doing that nod and I saw how his lips slightly parted from each other and the focused expression of his eyes and when he turned to me he just found me looking back at him even though I still covered half of my face with my sleeve.

He's probably noticed me looking at him the whole time he was nodding at the western street!

"Still can't breathe through the stench?" Arno.

This was both an opportunity to slip away from embarrassment and a good reason to make a lame excuse, "Yes, still can't." I stammered.

Proceeding to that direction, we still looked at the other tanners. Expressionless, blank and dull. Those are just some of the words that describe them in their current occupations but a few seem to have made some settlements with this kind of job.

Whilst walking, I suddenly concentrated to one building and then…

"Arno…"

"Yes?"

"We need to go to that one." I pointed to one tanning shack. There was no worker but it did have that wooden tub that contained the acid for dissolving and making animal skin into leather.

"Wait…" I gave Arno some time to think and concentrate so that we don't have to argue—we just have to agree with each other. "You're right, let's go."

The two of us crossed the murky canal with just a single jump and then we headed for that shack we focused on.

The door's closed. Who would not find that suspicious?

I lockpicked the door and then as I pushed the door open, I found trails of blood on the wooden floorboards. Animal pelts brought in here to be turned into leather do not bleed out.

Then I guess we must have cracked the clue.

"Upstairs." Arno.

At the foot of the stairs, I found my uncle's cockade—yes, he associated himself with Napoleon—and picked it up.

"Celestine, what's wrong?"

"This is… This is my… This is Uncle's cockade." I whined.

Arno gulped the lump in his throat and then held my hand as we climbed up the stairs. As we got up, I inhaled a rancid smell through the door on my right and I feared for the worse.

I gathered my remaining strength to lockpick the door and as I opened the door, I found a man—rather middle-aged—working on a coat worn on a mannequin. There's something wrong in this scene, I just know it—because that stench is coming exactly inside this room.

I walked up to the man and I noticed that his hands were getting shaky as he sews the button into the leather.

"You seem to be working hard, man." I said.

He didn't speak and I cut him off from his work as I put my hand on his hand and the clothed mannequin. He was afraid to speak and I can sense that he's been ordered to be silent.

I took off my glove and ran my four fingers across the leather of the coat.

"This is such fine leather. Best one I have ever touched yet."

"T-Thank you… M-Mademoiselle…"

"From what pelt?"

"M-Mademoiselle?"

"I said what pelt did the leather come from? Wolf? Bear? Deer? Go on, man."

"P-Please… don't… don't hurt me…" he begged as he stammered wearily.

I knew it.

"I'm not going to ask another time—from what pelt?" I almost hissed.

"M-hmn…"

"What was that?"

"Mhmn…"

I clicked my tongue in exasperation, "Speak up."

"Human."

Arno approached a bench that was covered with a tattered cloth and revealed a skinned body.

To my horror, it was my Uncle.

My intimidating demeanor vanished as I walked to my Uncle's raw body, I made a muted scream as I helplessly and wearily threw myself to Arno's arm. Not even the strongest and most lethal Assassin can stand and walk off the death of a family member.

"Who did this?!"

"Miss, please hear me out! I was ordered by…"

"By Antoine-Thomas LaSalle! He is Antoine St. Just's chaperone—a monster like his master!" I raged.

"I am so sorry, Miss. Forgive me…" he whimpered.

"If you want my forgiveness, tell me where LaSalle is and most likely St. Just is there." I snarled.

"Luxembourg…"

"I will return for my Uncle's body after I kill both servant and master. Stop your work. That is not worth a thousand or two livres and you are wise enough to realize that."

He bowed down his head and then we left the shack via the open window on the floor that Arno and I were standing on.

"Who are we going to kill first?"

"First, we need the extremists and then St. Just and LaSalle."

"In Palais du Luxembourg?"

"That is the most prominent option that we have, Arno."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRENCH:
> 
> Bonjour monsieur. Je l'espère ne vous dérange pas, mais nous voulons que vous répondez à quelques questions. – Hello, sir. I hope you don't mind but we want you to answer some questions.
> 
> Bien sûr. Comment puis-je aider? – Of course. How can I help?
> 
> Avez-vous vu quelques extrémistes prennent en captivité d'un homme d'âge moyen et éventuellement lui apportaient quelque part? – Have you seen a few extremists take captive of a middle-aged man and possibly brought him somewhere?
> 
> Je continue à entendre les bêtes qui menacent le pauvre homme doit être apporté à la tannerie. – I keep hearing the brutes threatening the poor man to be brought to the tannery.


	12. Too Little, Too Late

**Celestine's POV**

Palais du Luxembourg.

The only concrete option we have in tracking down my uncle's killer.

As we head for Luxembourg district, I was mustering up what I'm going to tell Juliette once I come back home.

Oh God, she'll expect her father to be alive by my side. But we should finish this early in the evening if Antoine St. Just is as cunning as I thought.

Arno and I scaled the buildings to get a better view of everything until we caught sight of the palace. Usually, there are a few extremists guarding the place—approximately one brute and three swordsmen, sometimes the snipers are underestimated by me and I get karma for it because sometimes I almost get shot.

I haven't been talking to Arno casually unless it's strategies or tactics or things that he should do once we infiltrate the palace.

As I stood on a building overlooking the palace already at a near proximity, I concentrated and ignored Arno walking to my side and detected the guards walking around the place—from the gardens to the ground floors and then to the second and third floor within the hallways and staircases.

Wow, they are everywhere! Damnit.

"So, what now, Celestine?"

I bit my lip, trying to think of the most subtle and quietest approach among all of my options.

"We try to take out those three—or four—guards at the grand entrance, those ones at the door. One of us has to jump into that haystack and then… See that brute over there?" I pointed at that fat man pacing to and fro within the radius of the haystack.

"Yes, I see him."

"Whoever jumps into the haystack—"

"Gets to kill him once he's close." He cut me off.

Vraiment?

L'ha appena fatto?

He looked at me as if that was nothing—he just cut me off with my sentence but come to think of it, obviously he's right because no one is foolish enough to jump land into a haystack and then get out of there without killing the gigantic brute that is twice as any peasant's size once he's half an inch away from the cart that you're hiding in.

I sighed in defeat and then nodded as I agreed to what he said. But before anyone gets to jump off the edge of the roof and land on a haystack, we decided who goes to jump and who infiltrates the place.

"Arno, you jump."

"But why?!"

"Because I said so."

"Who gave you the right?"

"My bloodlust for Antoine St. Just who inhumanely murdered my uncle!"

"Fair enough."

"Go. Berserk the other if you must."

"That was a suggestion."

"Take it as a life-saving suggestion."

I watch him dart away from me—good, some alone time to think some more—and then I moved to the other side to get a good view of what he's about to do. Either he impresses me with his tactics that is according to plan, or does his own reckless garbage that gets everyone in trouble that ends up with the solution that we have to kill every single incoming extremist ready to kill us.

I'm just worried about the alarm bell, though. It feels better if I instantly kill the ringer before he could even pull the rope and make the bell ring and alarm every single enemy in the palace's perimeter.

Basically, every single restricted or non-liberated district has its own alarm bell—we just need to sabotage it so that they have no choice but to die.

So, Arno jumps now and this stupid brute is looking at the other and he begins to pace close to the haystack.

Closer…

Just a little more.

I literally bit my lip in anticipation and then I followed the same directions that Arno used to get to the jumping point. In the dark of the evening, we barely noticed this dozed off enemy swordsman who was leaning his back on the pillar and is sleeping standing up.

I loaded my Phantom Blade bracer with a Berserk Blade and then hit the dozing enemy in the shoulder. It's always the shoulder whenever I hit someone from above—I would have killed them if I hit them in the head with a Berserk blade, it would be a waste of good drugged liquid.

Before Arno could even draw his sword for the same swordsman that I just drugged with a Berserk Blade, he instantly hid into the haystack again and I was giggling all the way—both at Arno and this drugged idiot attacking his own comrades.

I leisurely sat down on the edge of the roof and watched the drugged enemy kill off his own comrades without any kind of human comprehension because it has been wrongly influenced by the poison of the blade directed into bloodstreams that makes him like a wild animal running amok in the middle of mating season.

I'm literally giggling right now that I don't even look professional in my occupation. Seriously, what's an Assassin without any kind of fun in their lives? That would be painfully lonesome.

Within a few short minutes, the remaining enemy along with the amok swordsman died because usually when I hit one with a Berserk Blade they would rage and kill their fellowmen but once the poison is beginning to subside—it's much deadlier because it really kills them. Not only the Berserk Blade drugs the victim or target into killing their own companions but also kill them in the end.

No wonder the Berserk Blade is one of my favorites. It's quiet and subtle and deadly and sadistic—kills both target and the target's target.

Scaling down the columns, I looted the three swordsmen and left the one for looting for Arno.

"What was that for?" Arno says as he springs out of the hay.

"What was what?"

"Back there. I was about to kill him." He gestures at my target whilst pulling off the Berserk Blade from his shoulder and pocketing at least five of his bullets. Convenient.

"Yeah well, it was more fun when I shot the Berserk Blade at him. I know you watched that entire scenario even while in the hay. Admit it, you practically enjoyed it."

"Alright, I admit it."

"Good. Now stop your childish whining and let's go."

So now that we have worked on the outside guards, it's time to take out the ones peeping through the windows. In the first floor, we peeked into a room that looked like a first-floor living room and at the same time a study due to the presence of a desk and bookshelves. Lancers were peeping through the windows while the brutes were looking through the windows that show the garden within the walls of the palace.

I eyed one that was at the table—he was a big one and he had his axe leaning on the side of the desk.

Alright, it's time for another Berserk blade.

I know that I had to stretch out my hand in order to give my Phantom Blade enough allowance but those bastards might take notice of my black gloved hand.

But I did it as quick as I could. Once I have outstretched my hand and fired a Berserk Blade at the brute at the desk and then he screamed in madness, I instantly pulled my arm away from the open. I stood up but not exiting my hiding place, I peeked behind the wall and watched the fun of seeing comrades kill each other for no valid reason—all the work coming from a single Berserk blade.

When they were all dead, I looted them for my own extra gain and then concentrated again to locate where St. Just could be but I wanted to kill his chaperone as well—it's twice the fun, twice the vengeance and twice the quench for revenge. Everything will be in balance.

There was an open door that leads to a staircase and then I ran towards it, discovering too late that there was bomber standing at the foot but then I silenced him with a blade before he could even shriek and turn himself into a human alarm bell—I hate it when that happens but at least I can still kill them to lessen the risk.

Running up the stairs, there were guards but instead of hiding I threw and cracked a smoke bomb in the middle of the entire group—even though they were scattered—and then killed some of them with my Hidden Blade while the smoke was still thick.

"No! Revolutionary bastard!" one of them shrieked.

"You won't get away with this!"

"I'll rip your heart out!" now this one really growled it out at me and he was the first one I killed with my Hidden Blade when the smoke was gradually subsiding already.

Three survived my blade within the cloud, including the two of them who expressed their anger in lame threats, but I finished them off with my sword—staggering one of them and then hacking them at the shoulder deep and hard, so hard that I heard the shoulder bones crack and shatter by the blade and then kicked him away from my sword and slit the other one at his throat.

That was unexpectedly quick than I anticipated.

There was a room, across the second floor but it was locked. Oh alright, time to lockpick again I guess.

The lockpick was the middle-class ones, by middle-class ones I meant the ones that have two latches that I have to pick on. High-class doors are the ones that have three latches inside the very lock. The low-class obviously has only one inner latch.

When all two latches inside the lock opened, I pushed the door and found nothing but three more guards. Seriously? Did St. Just really surrounded himself with these bastards?

Before I kill them all, I decided that I should spare one to question him about where St. Just is hiding. So I did.

I killed the two lancers and then spared the bomber by fatally wounding him and then choked him by the collar of his coat.

"Where is Antoine St. Just and his chaperone LaSalle?" I growled.

"You… Can't… Can't make me talk!" he spurted blood at my face while in the process of making his reply.

I wiped the blood off my face with the hem of his coat and then drew out my blade.

"You see, this blade can skin you off like how a butcher skins off a pig. Honestly, I can do better than that—unless you tell me where your master is hiding."

"Choke on my bones!"

Wow, he really wants to do it the hard way, hmn? Two can play that game, monsieur.

I began to plunge the first inch of my blade into his cheek and he screamed in agonizing pain. I nudged my wrist upwards a little bit so that I could touch the upper part of the cheekbone.

"Where?" I hissed.

"Second… floor east… east wing… at gr-grand… h-hall."

I gave him a finishing punch because he put it up with me the hard way and so he got what he deserved for playing it rough with me. I'm easy to negotiate with but I can gamble myself if you play with me the hard way. I left him wriggling in pain on the floor along with his two companion lancers.

Hurriedly, I ran across the west wing and then headed for the grand staircase that leads to the said location of St. Just's hiding place.

So… he's having a ball, isn't he? The foolish aristocrat visitors have no idea that the coat they're fancying on St. Just is literally made of human skin—based on my experience and the information that I got from my fellow Brothers from the Sanctuary, St. Just doesn't want his coat made of anything except human skin.

I blended with the partygoers as I snatched a glass of wine being served by the palace servants and leaned on the wall. Sipping a glass of fine Italian red wine—I think it's San Colombo—and when there was this bomber heading towards my direction, I clapped my free hand on his chest and drew my blade out on the spot and immediately pulled it out to get back to blending.

While eyeing on some more guards who could possibly be pacing within my radius, I noticed Arno coming from the other side of the hallway and pulled in one lancer from where he was hiding and then sabotaged the alarm bell in the guise of a hanged wall ornament.

Maybe if it were on a regular day it would be just a servant bell but since this sick bastard St. Just is here it serves as an alarm bell.

He walks towards me and blends along with me.

"What are you doing?"

"Blending."

"You do not call sipping wine and leaning on the wall blending."

"I have to take these guards out first before attacking St. Just—he's inside that grand hall. Subtlety makes a good impact on an attack."

"So what are we going to do now?"

"Smoke. Lots and lots of smoke."

"How many guards do you think are inside around him?"

"I gamble around eight of them."

**Arno's POV**

"I gamble around eight of them." She says as she spins her wrist with her goblet in hand.

I looked at the grand hall and then thought on how we are exactly going to enter the ballroom. She did say smoke so I supposed we should start throwing smoke bombs or stun grenades inside the ballroom—taking out most of the stronger and more aggressive guards and leaving the inferior ones for the fun when the smoke fades.

"We both throw in smoke bombs for each side and then we attack as many as we can." She suggests.

"Deal."

We both sneaked our hands into our coat pockets to fish for smoke bombs and then as we first set foot into the hall, I smoked the left side while she took the right and we both threw bombs across the entire room, causing such a great commotion within the room that the visitors and even the servants scream and scramble.

"What's going on?!" we heard St. Just in the midst of his troubled and panicked partygoers.

"Monsieur St. Just!" his chaperone, LaSalle, who was loyally standing by his side.

While the smoke was still thick, we killed the ones nearby with the Hidden Blade and then shot down the others at the head or at the chest. Thankfully, we didn't hit any of the innocent visitors and servants.

In a blasting succession, I killed two lancers while Celestine shot down two brutes and then a bomber using her Phantom Blade.

When the smoke had already subsided, most of the citizens have already fled the ballroom and that we were left with two surviving lancers and then St. Just and LaSalle.

"You seem troubled in looking at me, monsieur St. Just."

"Wh-Who are you?!" St. Just demands in fear.

"Ahh, allow me to introduce myself—but first…"

Celestine consecutively killed the two lancers guarding St. Just and his chaperone and left the two shaking and trembling in fear.

"Je suis Celestine Sauveterre. Je suis la nièce de Monsieur Garconi Hugo Sauveterre—the man you killed for his skin to make your stupid coat."

His fear suddenly turned into prideful and foolish bravery.

"So, you're his niece. I kept hearing stories from the streets that he has a lovely niece from his brother—and the stories are really true, you are very lovely, mon cher."

"You killed my male cousins in their own homestead, you had my female cousin almost raped and then killed my uncle to be skinned for your coat."

"Forget his skin, I want yours, milady." He licked his lips and he showed a pair of maniacal eyes.

Just as he was closing into Celestine like a lion prying over a gazelle, I slashed him in the face—producing a diagonal slash across his lips—and he looked startled with me and then he drew out his sword and so did his loyal butler.

I know that Celestine wants St. Just for herself to quench her vendetta on him and so I took care of LaSalle instead. I easily killed LaSalle by parrying him and finish him by plunging in my sword from the underside of his jaw and then to his brain.

As for Celestine and St. Just, the man is just as good as her but she was faster, swifter and more cunning. She eludes him flexibly and then she finally stabs him at his nape and the blade protrudes and severs his thyroid.

Sadistically beautiful if I should say.

"You got what you deserved for killing innocent people for their skins as if they were animals. You'll bleed and burn, St. Just—you and your loyal butler." She hisses in his ear from behind as she pulls herself closer.

Harshly pulling out the blade, fountaining blood and pooling it on the marble floor she wipes off her blade on the white-dyed skin coat of Antoine St. Just who is now nothing but a lifeless bag of spilling blood.

She looked at her victim and then sheathes her blade, she had that look in her face that painted her anguish and sadness and even her anxiety—for some reason I read in her facial expression that she was anxious.

"Are you alright?" I asked, reaching for her but yet she felt distant.

"Y-Yes, I'm alright. Come, we're getting out of here." She says and then shoots at one window big enough to fit us as we jump off of it.

She performs a Leap of Faith and as I stopped at the window to watch her where she landed, she landed on a pile of leaves and then I did the same as well. When I got out of the leaf pile, she was already a little bit far from me.

Could she be probably heading for the tannery where her uncle is?

"Celestine, wait!"

I noticed her slowing down and then when I finally caught up with her, I was greeted with a smile or maybe just her plainly looking at me but no, she just kept going and then we came across a pulley, we were indecisive who takes the pulley and who scales the wall.

"No worries, I'll just scale." She says but I snatched her by the waist and then pressed her close to me.

"Better hold tight now. Cut it." I told her and she did and we both darted upwards all thanks to the lift.

We landed on the wide gutter of the roof and then we began free-running on the rooftops as we take a better look at where we're going.

The thin brownish smoke visible within our line of sight coming from the district of Saint-Jacques indicates that we're already near the tannery.

She ran faster and faster, and then she descended as she slid down the inclination of the roof and then landed safely on a small hanged flowering row, then she jumped down and rolled as she lands on the ground and continues running as she got to her feet.

Finally catching up with her, she slowed herself down as we got to the tannery shacks. Most of the workers have settled for the night but the one shack where her uncle's corpse is located still had its light on.

Entering the shack, we found the worker sewing the cover over monsieur Sauveterre shut ready for burial and the body was placed on a cot.

"Mademoiselle…" the worker shuddered.

"Don't worry, I only came here for my uncle."

"And what of St. Just and LaSalle, Miss?"

"They're permanently rid of the world."

The worker bowed his head and handed the body of Celestine's uncle to her.

"Milady, if you would allow me, I will come with you in bringing home your uncle. He and I will carry the cot, you lead the way." The worker suggests in which Celestine agrees.

She doesn't need to consult me, really. I felt sympathy for her uncle so I should pay my respect in this manner.

The worker and I went to each end of the cot and then carried it as Celestine takes the lead. And as we exited the shack and started walking in the streets with her in the lead, every man took off their hat as respect while the peasant women put their hands together so as to offer a prayer albeit for a stranger.

And with every step of the way, I could see that Celestine's anxiety grows as it etches itself in her face. She's afraid to say everything to Juliette because we both knew that the young girl was hoping that her father would come back home to her alive—but I guess we were about to crush the poor little girl's anticipation and it really breaks me inside as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITALIAN:
> 
> L'ha appena fatto? – He just did that?
> 
> FRENCH:
> 
> Vraiment? – Really?
> 
> Je suis – I am
> 
> Je suis la nièce de – I am the niece of
> 
> Mon cher – my dear


	13. Cousins, Sisters

**Arno's POV**

The entire procession we were silent and Celestine would look down on her uncle's canopied corpse from time to time and she would randomly look at me with those sorrowful eyes—as if the glimmer I see in her eyes when she was in such a happy mood suddenly got dull.

When we finally got to the mansion, we stopped by the east entrance because if we entered the main entrance that leads to the café then we would have scared off the customers and we'd lose income.

"Wait here." Celestine says and then she enters the mansion.

**Celestine's POV**

As I entered the house, I went upstairs to Juliette's bedroom and she answered the door.

"Celestine! Where's… Where's Father?"

My anxiety made me implode and then I went inside her room without answering her question and I don't have the courage to face her because I have failed her.

"Juliette, listen to me, alright?"

"Celestine, where's my father?"

I shook my head and she began to gasp for air and burst in crying.

"I did everything I could, Juliette." I muttered shamefully.

"What did they do to him?!"

At first I couldn't speak because I know just describing it to her is just as painful as seeing it personally, "They killed him—possibly knocking him out unconscious—then they brought him to the tanneries in Saint-Jacques where he was skinned alive, his skin was made into leather under the request of Antoine St. Just."

That's all I can sum up.

"Where is he now?" she shuddered.

"Venez. Il est dehors."

I held her by the hand and then brought her downstairs to where Arno and the tanner were waiting for me.

"It's best if you don't… take off the cover." I suggested.

Juliette began to scream and cry. Her screams were so loud that it drew the attention of the customers still lounging inside the café and they looked through the windows—some were even squeezing themselves between other people to take a look at the commotion.

As much as I wanted to shoo them away, Mme. Gouze would scold me for scaring away the customers hence the low income for apparently three weeks—or maybe a month depending on how much trauma I have caused to the overlooking customers.

Pourquoi font-ils bavardent une sorte de divertissement malade?

I heard Mme. Gouze and the other maids shooing away the customers from the windows. I found it rude of them watching Juliette mourn over her father. How about I watch them in their kin's funeral, let's see who gets the last laugh.

I was holding back my tears as I bit my lip and tightened my grip on my arms as I try to hug myself. It's not at all helping, you know.

I reached for Juliette—it felt like she was so close and yet so far—and then she instantly threw herself in my arms longing for comfort.

"There, there." I cooed, but I know it is useless as hell.

"The man who did this?"

"Both servant and master are dead."

"Good."

"We'll bury him tonight, Juliette. Is that alright? So he can rest now."

"Alright."

I turned to the tanner and then fished for money—I gave him 300 livres and forgave him. Besides, I think he has a family and that he needed some money to buy food for them.

"You can go home now, monsieur. Thank you for your help."

"Thank you too, Miss. And I'm sorry."

"You're forgiven."

The tanner bows as he leaves and then asked help from Mme. Gouze as we began to close the café. This city doesn't seem to sleep anyway and organizing my uncle's burial is no easy task.

"Hmm, I could ask someone to make the coffin and have it delivered here." Mme. Gouze.

"Aren't we going to need a carriage to transport the coffin?" I ask.

"The carriage bringing the coffin will be the one transporting the body." Gouze.

"I'm staying here until the coffin arrives." I stood my ground.

"Very well—I respect that." Gouze bows her head and then enters the café.

Through the window, I saw her sitting down on one of the customer tables in front of the closed stage. She must be already writing a letter requesting the coffin and carriage. Good.

To pass the time, Juliette, Arno and I stayed by my uncle's body—still lying on the cot—and Juliette lit some candles while waiting.

She and I prayed silently while Arno watched—from my peripheral vision he was watching us pray—and then not less than two hours, the coffin finally arrived.

The coachman dismounted the carriage and then approached us as he removed his hat in respect for our dead.

"Good evening, mademoiselle." The coachman.

"Just in time, the candles are melting out." Juliette.

"Here, let me." Arno stands up and then helps the coachman in carrying the coffin.

Juliette and I watched the two men bring in the wooden coffin here in the outer foyer. They both lay it down and open up the lid, Juliette and I stepped aside for the coachman and Arno to transfer Uncle Garconi's body into his casket. The man had brought his own hammer and a few nails and once they have already closed it, he began to seal off the lid with the nails that he had brought.

He did his work swiftly and naturally, he and Arno carried it again and then set it down on the carriage.

"You two ladies ride along with the coach, I'll walk ahead—making sure there are no extremists waiting for an ambush." Arno.

For some reason, I had no choice but to agree with him. I mean, Juliette needs security—lei è una molto sensibile.

He was gentleman enough to hold Juliette until she got herself on the coach's seat next to the driver, he offered his hand to me and I took it gently but I didn't look at him.

"Non dovresti andartene ora?" I snapped but I tried to make my tone less harsh.

We watched him speed away towards the route to the cemetery—the one where my parents are buried as well—and then the coachman snapped his reins and the horse started to pull the load.

In the middle of the ride, Juliette suddenly opened a conversation—and it was rather an unusual topic to discuss.

"Why are you so mean to him?"

I turned my head to her and tried to make up a valid explanation even though it's not as truthful as she expects.

"I'm not. That's just how I talk towards him."

"You don't talk like that to other people."

"Juliette, s'il vous plaît arrêter de poser des questions sur l'Arno." I sighed as gentle as I could.

I still regret what I did back in the house when I was still cleaning his wounds. I regret that kiss.

The whole ride, there were no extremists at all. Good, he's gotten rid of them. Only police are the ones we see in uniform while the rest are just common folk.

The cemetery was a little far and by the time we were halfway there the sun was beginning to rise. The sky's hue was turning from dark indigo into light blue with shades of orange and yellow of sunshine.

Before we turn to the curb, on the rooftop of the very last building I found him standing there looking down on the carriage and when the sunlight pooled to the streets of Paris I saw him turn his head to the horizon of the sunrise.

He's probably thinking about Elise, hm? I guess with everything that involved the sun involves Elise as well. I've never seen her face, at least on a portrait but I suppose she's beautiful enough to make Arno look at the sun in every rise and fall and remind him of her.

**Arno's POV**

As I got to the last building, I stayed on top of the roof as I watched over and looked down on her. She probably has not noticed but at every alleyway I pass by, I stop and look down on her and watch her.

When I stopped at the roof of a tavern—I think—I peered down and saw her conversing with Juliette. I saw that her cousin seemed to be asking something and Juliette's face expression was benign, as for her elder cousin she had a straight face and as she turned to Juliette to reply to her, she has this steely face expression and I noticed her eyebrows pull together and then relax.

How I wish I heard what she and Juliette were talking about.

I darted forward and then dispatch the extremists from both sides using my Phantom Blade. I was lucky that there were no policemen around or else, it would have been another disaster. So much for a peaceful funeral procession for monsieur Sauveterre.

Now that these extremist rats are out of the way—for good—I went for the end of the street that leads to an intersection, I waited for the carriage to reach the same point but by then the sun was already rising.

Really? Did we really take long in ambushing St. Just and LaSalle in Palais du Luxembourg and in traveling on foot to the tannery and then bringing the corpse back to the café?

I never thought we'd reach the morning. I mean, this is just the burial but I guess that doesn't matter anymore.

Sunrise…

I looked down on her once again and then turned to the horizon of the sunrise. I felt my coat's ends billowing in the chilly morning breeze and heard the horse whinny as it felt the patch of sunlight beginning to pool on the soil.

I closed my eyes and then remembered my first grave mistake towards Celestine back in the café.

I really want to make things up with her, I know that my fault is somehow reversible. It will be irreversible once I'm too late.

Half of the sun was already showing along with its rays and just the glimpse of it reminded me—not of Elise—but of her Celestine herself.

I remember her smiles when we spent our times in the library, during my Italian lessons and our reading sessions that end up into long hours of conversation about varying topics that we find interesting.

The bright light reminded me of the gleaming of her soft and welcoming hazel-brown eyes. Although she might appear intimidating at first, over time when you get to know her better, you will see the light in her eyes—especially when she smiles.

And her laughter…

Oh, her beautiful laughter.

From the softest chuckle to the loudest and cheeriest laugh coming from her, it sends the tingle in the spine that gives me that ticklish feeling that it makes me smile like a fool.

Looking down, they turned to the right and so I descended from the roof and then searched for some more extremists to dispatch—they tend to halt whatever carriage they see assuming that they have such authority. Idiots.

Scaling the building facing the one where I was a few moments ago, I ran across rooftops until I eyed on a small three-man team of bombers.

I took a cherry bomb from my pocket and then threw it at least four inches to their left and these fools walked into the lure and once the three of them were still standing there, I killed them with a poison gas bomb. Surely, the carriage must have noticed the green fog coming out from the left alley and I saw Celestine signal the coach driver to stop until the poisonous smoke has completely subsided—even the faintest wisp of that poison could choke you so it's best to wait for it to completely vaporize.

Within minutes, the three bombers that I have thrown a poison bomb at suddenly appeared from the left alley where they followed the cherry bomb lure and they acted like crazy animals as they flail their arms and mindlessly and erratically run around as if they could escape the poison that has already seeped into their lungs.

This act of theirs slightly startled the horse but Celestine managed to calm the steed down and we—with me still on the vantage point—waited if they would die already or still erratically run around in circles as they slowly succumb.

Not less than five minutes, they bombers already fell to their feet while the remainders of their strength just made them spurt out blood, bodily water, and green bile through their nostrils and mouths.

"Now that that's done for, time for the next stretch of road." I told myself and continued on.

Going forward, two buildings away were four extremists—one brute, one bomber, and two swordsmen—but ahead of me was a sniper so I killed that gunman first with a Phantom Blade. When I was close enough within my Phantom Blade's range to shoot a Berserk Blade to the brute as my target, I hit him in the chest.

He jerked, looked down on his torso and took out the blade. He started to go groggy and he shook his head to relieve himself slightly of the drug-coated at the tip of the blade. He screams—meaning that the drug has already spread across his bloodstreams.

He swings his axe at his two scrawny extremists—the two swordsmen—while this bomber tried to ride on the brute's back so as to halt him in his crazed state but this only resulted to the brute biting the bomber's hand that was clutched onto his mouth.

It's kind of interesting that whenever the berserk victim bites a fellow companion, he gets infected and becomes berserk as well. Kind of like how disease-ridden rats bite dogs or cats and infect them. But in this case of humans, these two berserk victims don't see each other as allies but still as enemies because their human cognition is blinded and clouded by the venomous coating of the Berserk Blade.

It's quite interesting, believe it or not.

When the carriage was halfway to the spot where these four extremists are killing each other, Celestine stops the coach again and waits for the extremists to finish each other off. The horse was just simply neighing but it obviously can hear the commotion happening. Even the common folk watched in confusion and fear—they have no idea what's going on with the four extremists who are fighting and killing each other when they were supposed to work together.

The brute got killed by the bomber and then one of the two swordsmen gunned down the drugged bomber but he got the chance to deliver a killing blow to his finisher—leaving one alive.

Just as I was about to kill him with a Phantom Blade, Celestine finished the job as she loaded hers and shot that surviving extremist down and told the driver to continue.

I followed them in their next turn and then stood at the left column of buildings as the coach wheeled on and then waited for them.

From my vantage point, I overlooked the next turn that the coach was taking and they were already close to the cemetery and that cemetery looked rather familiar to me because there happens to be two tombs with angels on top—the angel on the leftmost side was one holding a cross while the other stone angel standing in the middle of the cemetery was holding a spear and is looking down.

That's the cemetery where the de la Serres are!

Oh right, I remember. Celestine was the girl I saw visiting two headstones in the same cemetery when I was visiting Monsieur Francois and… err… his daughter.

Back then she was still a rebel and now she's an Assassin in the Brotherhood of Paris.

Comme le temps passe.

I noticed that the coach was beginning to slow down and when they came to a complete halt, I descended as fast as I could and then helped the driver to pull out the coffin from the back of the carriage. I shouldered the casket and then we followed Celestine and Juliette.

When we entered the cemetery, there was already a ditch next to two headstones. Silently, I read them as…

Absolon Sauveterre 1710-1751

Cateline Sauveterre 1713-1751

They're Celestine's parents…

"Hello, Mother, Father—look, Uncle's come to join you." Celestine says sorrowfully.

She looks at the open ditch and then turns to the coachman.

"Madame Gouze had everything settled, Miss. No need to pay me."

She nods and then turns to her parents' tombs.

I know that Francois and Elise's headstones are just right behind me but this is more important for me. I'm staying here whether Celestine likes it or not, if she ever falls to her knees and burst into tears—I'll be there to catch her.

We gently put down the casket in the ditch and then we began shoveling back the soil to cover it up.

"Farewell, Papa." Juliette whimpers.

"Rest well, Uncle." Celestine says as she hugs her mourning cousin. "You've been my mentor after Father did, and for that I am grateful. I'm sorry that I wasn't there soon enough to help you and your sons but you can trust me in taking care of Juliette—I know that you do trust me. May you guide us, Uncle, along with Mother and Father—you have always been a good man. You three rest well—until we meet again, I suppose."

The two cousins made the Sign of the Cross as their relative was already buried. As for Celestine, she knelt down, opened the right side of her coat and then produced three roses and surprisingly they are still fresh.

Monsieur Sauveterre's headstone read:

Garconi Hugo Sauveterre 1705-1796

"Resquiescat in Pace." I overheard Celestine mutter to her three family members.

As she stood up, she put her arm around Juliette and I turned around to make her at least take notice of me. It's beginning to crush me—Celestine not noticing me almost the entire morning. She did turn around but her eyes were focused on two headstones and then she turned to me.

"You can visit them if you like—or in your case, just her. I'm taking Juliette home." She said bitterly and walked on, escorting Juliette to the carriage and asking the coachman to bring her back to the mansion safely.

She comes back walking into the cemetery again as I stood behind the de la Serre headstones.

"Why didn't you come with her?"

"I wanted to visit my parents. Go mind your own business." She hissed and I watched her sit down on the grass and stare at her parents' headstone and then she buried her face in her arms as they were propped on her knees.

I didn't go to monsieur Francois and Elise's tombs, I just sat there behind their stones and watched over Celestine in which hours later I suspected her to have dozed off.

I smiled at the sight of her sleeping peacefully, of course, the girl hasn't gotten any sleep since last night. I quietly crept on her and brushed the hair away covering her face and then found her really fast asleep.

As carefully as I can, I cradled her in my arms and slowly stood up as I carried her. She nudged her face close to my chest.

She must be dreaming. How lovingly adorable.

We exited the cemetery and walked our way back to the mansion, the entire trip she was fast asleep—she's dead exhausted and restless so I guess it's just acceptable that she sleeps the whole time. She's surprisingly light and whenever I gaze down on her sleeping face, I smile and attempted to kiss her forehead and she didn't nudge.

As we arrived home, I climbed upstairs to her bedroom and then managed to gently bring her down to bed…

"Arno…" she sleepily muttered as I laid her down on her bed. I bit my lip, afraid that I must have awakened her, but to my surprise, she must be dreaming as her eyes were still shut and she returned to her peaceful sleep.

I tried pulling myself away slowly and steadily but I was caught on my vest by her hand and I gently pulled in close to her again. She's deeply dreaming…

I decided to lie down next to her if she's subconsciously comfortable with it.

And before I knew it, I was already asleep myself—right next to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITALIAN:
> 
> Lei è una molto sensibile – she's a fragile little one.
> 
> Non dovresti andartene ora? – Shouldn't you be going now?
> 
> FRENCH:
> 
> Venez. Il est dehors. – Come. He's outside.
> 
> Pourquoi font-ils bavardent une sorte de divertissement malade? – Why do they make gossip some kind of sick entertainment?
> 
> s'il vous plaît arrêter de poser des questions sur l'Arno – please stop asking questions about Arno.
> 
> Comme le temps passe. – How time flies.


	14. Close Contact

As he takes off her boots and greaves, so Arno ended up sleeping in Celestine' bed right next to her anyway as these two haven't gotten any wink of sleep ever since they started rescuing Juliette and then investigating and then killing the culprits.

Little does Celestine know that she was sleeping right next to the subject of her dream.

As for Arno, he comfortably lies down on Celestine's bed and puts his arm around her and she mindlessly snuggles—thinking that she's just dreaming when in truth she is literally chest-to-chest with him.

The next morning, Celestine slowly wakes up and finds Arno lying down by her side and she has no idea how did this happen in the first place—she stared at him while he was sleeping and she looked at the scar across his cheek connecting to that small nick at the bridge of his nose. She thought she was still dreaming but she felt his chest rise and fall under her forearm, she jerks away from him and apparently woke him up and stares at him looking dumbfounded.

"What are you doing in my room—let alone, my bed?" she snapped.

"That, my dear Celestine, is a long story." Arno sleepily replies.

Celestine looks down and discovers she was still fully-clothed from neck to legs—of course, her boots and greaves were taken off—and then she finds Arno in the same state.

All she knows is that she was only sitting right in front of her parents' tombstones and then dozed off.

"Why would you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Bring me home with you."

"Well, I can't just leave you alone there." Arno says as he begins to sit up.

"Well, for that, merci… But get out of my room." She points to the door and looks away from him.

"Alright, alright. If you insist." Arno says in a defeated tone and then gets out of her bed. "Oh and Celestine…"

"What?"

"I hope we can still have some more time together, you know, like in the library or in the garden with our sword fighting lessons. It's been a while, really."

She didn't reply, she was silent and is still looking away. She waited for Arno to leave her bedroom. When the latch clicked, Arno gently thumped his forehead on the door and sighed deeply and contemplated.

Reminiscing those silent moments where he carried her all the way to her bedroom, taking off her boots and greaves so that she can sleep comfortably and soundly…

He remembers what happened last night when Celestine was unconsciously not aware that Arno was literally with her, her dreaming state made her think like that. He smiled slightly when he heard her mutter his name even though she was very sound asleep.

What he cherished the most was that serene moment wherein he decided to stay and lie down with her the entire night and later end up sleeping next to her in her own bed anyway. His arm around her to cuddle her warmly and her slim arm placed on his chest…

"How I wish it'll be like that on most nights," Arno muttered to himself. "Oh, Celestine… I love you, I really do."

What Arno doesn't know is that Celestine was directly standing on the other side of her door and thanks to the door's not-so-thick built, she heard him say everything.

But as admittedly stubborn as she really is, she denies it and thinks that it's a trick… a lie… an object of deception.

She's taking a big toll on what happened before but as much as she wants to give him a chance, she wants concrete proof that he's really trying his best to make it up to her. That was her principle.

Should I really open the door? She thought to herself but just retired to her bed until she heard heavy footsteps from her door and then gradually became faint.

"Good. He's left."

She stands up again and then opens her door, as she turns to the open second floor she finds Arno conversing with a fellow Assassin—he was wearing a grayish-white coat, a blue tie, and a black face mask.

With that as a distraction for Arno and an opportunity for Celestine to avoid his gaze, she heads nonchalantly to the library and climbs the ladder. She grabbed a book from one of the stacks on the narrow second floor of the library and then sat down and leaned back against the finely-lacquered mahogany banister.

Arno took notice of the angle of the Assassin's head and saw that he was looking at the open doorway of the library—basically, the library is just a walk-in kind of entryway, it doesn't have a door in the first place.

"What is it, brother?" Arno.

"I think she's avoiding you."

"Thank you for summing that up."

"You should at least try talking to her even though she's ignoring you. The less you talk to her, the more you stretch out the distance—it'll be more difficult to reach her by then."

"Sure, I'll take that advice, brother. Best be on my way."

"Of course." Even with that face mask, anyone can tell that the Assassin was smirking.

As Arno walks into the study, he found her still sitting and reading. He climbs up the ladder and sits on the opposite side of her spot—she didn't mind him.

He purses his lips and takes a book with a maroon leather covering, at first he was bored until the chapters eventually got interesting. He was reading about historic entries about different patriots across Europe. He even came across the history of Renaissance Italy.

When he indulged to the chapter of the book, Celestine slightly lowered her book to show her eyes and she silently read the title.

Géographie et Histoire du Monde.

"Una volta che l'hai finito di leggere, can I borrow it?"

Arno jerks his head and casually responds, "Hmn? I'm sorry, come again?"

"Je l'ai dit, une fois que vous avez fini de lire cela, que puis-je emprunter? That's already French for your easy comprehension."

"Ah, je suis désolé. En fait, je suis déjà fait lire." He gently closes the book—without any kind of sarcasm—and hands it over to Celestine.

"Grazie, mia colomba."

"Prego, mia cara."

Celestine sets down her first book and then starts with the one Arno has given to her.

"You know, I think you should work on your Italian more." She blurts out.

"I can't do it without a mentor."

"Go look for a professor somewhere. Surely there are some teachers who have an Italian lineage."

"I prefer you much more, Celestine."

She looks over the cover of the book and finds Arno staring back at her. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up and giving her goosebumps and then she puts it down—but not closing it—and stares back at him.

"So, now what?" he cunningly smiles.

She shrugs and then tested his skills in speaking and understanding Italian, "Cosa intendi?"

He parted his lips and then tried to comprehend what she said using Italian and then he shrugs in frustration.

"Alright, alright… I'm losing my memory in what you taught me."

"What exactly were you doing back then during our Italian sessions?"

Arno was silent and he looked away from her, staring at the open air of the middle of the library and in his peripheral vision, he could see Celestine waiting for an answer as she taps her slender finger on the thick maroon cover of the book.

"Alright, I admit it, I was slightly listening to you because I was just staring at you the entire time during our lessons. I liked the way how you look blankly at the window whenever you think of the next Italian phrase you're going to use on me, I like how you smile whenever I say it both right and wrong or when I'm just plainly guessing it."

"No wonder you don't understand a few of what I say in Italian."

"But it was quite impressive when you spoke straight French to that coachman back then. I was about to tell you that but you were too focused with the murder—so I understood that case."

"Tell you what, I'll teach you again and in exchange, teach me in using other weapons—especially the lances."

"Traiter." He smirks.

They resumed their Italian-speaking sessions even on just the narrow and slightly-claustrophobic second floor of the library and spent the entire morning there with the lessons. Both of them found peace up there with just the two of them and they began to mend their bond, but Celestine got a little strict whenever it comes to Arno's attention span but she would childishly and sweetly tap him on the head or under his chin to make him listen again.

She would teach him complete phrases and sentences and little by little he would understand them and repeat them personally.

"Seems that you've got this whole thing quite well." Celestine says as she returns the two books on a random stack.

"My thanks," Arno says gratefully. "And Celestine,"

"Hm?"

"Perdonami per prima… sai, sul tetto." He sincerely apologizes.

She can see the sincerity in his voice and eyes, and she smiles and nods. "I got a little carried myself too, so I'm sorry as well."

"You had every right to get mad at me. I know you didn't deserve that kind of treatment and for that, I'm sorry."

"Alright, I get it." She chuckles as she found his repetitiveness rather amusing bit by bit.

"So, how about that lance-wielding session? I can show you a few tricks up my sleeve." he perks up.

"Alright, alright."

They went to the weapons room via the small door on the end of the library's second floor. But before getting to the weapons room, they scurry through a small network of the attic. The left fork ends up in the Legacy Room where the Master Assassins' robes are kept safe whilst on the right in the weapons room itself but the second-floor library entryway isn't the only one with a hatch like that—even Arno's bedroom leads to the attic's network.

As they dropped to the weapons room, they found Andre fixing the weapons in their respective racks and straightening up the armor pieces.

"Arno, Celestine." Andre greets. "What brings you two here?"

"I owe Celestine a fighting lesson."

"With what weapon to be exact?"

"A lance." Celestine replies.

Andre looks back at them and then looks at the rack of lances, choosing two potential ones but then Celestine felt doubtful of herself.

"Andre, at least give me the one with less quality, I don't want to ruin any of the fine ones."

"It's not a problem but you are right. Wise girl." Andre chuckles as he takes two simple lances with iron heads and darkwood rods. "Here, get the hang of holding it first." He tosses both lances to the two young Assassins.

Celestine gave herself some distance and space away from Arno to avoid injuries, she shifts the weapon alternately left and right trying to feel which hand is most dominant and compatible with such a weapon. She happens to be ambiguous—she writes and draws and wields her pistol with her left hand while she holds a sword, tosses a bomb and sends her fist to a jaw with her right.

However, this is the first time that she's held a lance. Swinging and weighing the weapon on different hands, she felt that she was more comfortable with her right holding the rod but since she's a beginner, she holds it with both hands.

"So, you're a right-handed type of wielder, eh, Celestine?" Andre.

"What do you mean?"

"Your right hand is behind your left when holding the staff, meaning that your right hand is the one where the force comes from while the left is used for keeping the momentum stable in order to deliver the killing blow." Andre advises.

"I have never… held a lance before."

"That's alright. All in good time, you will learn." Andre. "Shall we start, Arno?"

Arno, on the other hand, is purely right-handed. With any type of weapon, he holds it by his right hand. Should he switch his sword to his pistol, he would toss his sword to his free hand—in a split second—and draw out his pistol and squeeze the trigger without any kind of hesitation.

"Pronto?" Arno engages.

"Pronto."

With every thrust, parry, evade and lunge Andre would spout out advice and comments to both of them but mostly he would compliment on the blows delivered by Celestine and Arno.

Celestine may be just a beginner at this weapon type but she sure is getting the hang of it just by blocking and countering Arno with the wooden rod and then lunge at him with the iron blade—to which he would flexibly and agilely dodge it.

At the climax of their combat practice, Andre foresaw that both Celestine and Arno would clash at equal forces making them skid backward in their own sides but one of them has to dominate the other in order to disorient the opponent.

At that moment, Celestine didn't see Arno as that affectionate Assassin she had by her side. She saw him as an enemy.

It made her remind of her father's lectures and pieces of advice when she was young at training. She remembers herself in her teenage years, that one memory when she and her father were done with their training and she sat down to rest.

_Celestine, you don't need to be so easy on me._ Her father, Absolon, advises.

_But you're my father, I could never hurt you._ Her younger self reasons out, she was fourteen back then.

_Heh heh, well that is true but during training, you must see me as the enemy. Pretend that I am a Templar scum and with that, focus._

_Should I do the same to other mentors?_

_Yes, you can but I'm sure as you grow and progress, you'll improve so much better._

_I don't want to end up hurting anybody. I might become blinded by my concentration of them being Templars—even though they're not._

_Personal violence is not an option, my dear. You'll improve when you're older._

_By then, I wouldn't have to pretend that everyone I train with is a Templar._

Her father chuckles out of amusement of the cunning of his only daughter, _Yes, I know._

She warps back into the present and then she did a staggering strike against Arno, causing him to lose hold of his land and she pushes him down with the rod in a horizontal position, causing the both of them on the ground but with Celestine over Arno on all fours. They both share that certain glance wherein everything felt slow and quiet.

Then they suddenly heard Andre's lone applause and Celestine rolls away from Arno as they waited for Andre's judgment.

"With the fact that you're a beginner, Celestine, come to think of it—that was impressive."

"Merci, Andre."

Andre bends down and reaches for the lances and puts them to the side for the moment. Arno stands up and helps Celestine up to her feet.

"I guess I withheld my end of the bargain." Arno smirks.

"Alright, alright, Assassin—we're even." Celestine chuckles and casually claps him on the chest.

Walking away, Celestine climbs up the ladder and disappears within the tunnel-like network of the attic.

"I saw the way you look at her, Arno."

"Did you, now, Andre?"

"Yes, anyone can notice that."

"I'm just glad we're even."

"But don't be satisfied with just that, man."

"I know."

He climbs up the ladder and then calls out her name.

"Celestine?"

"I'm here." Her voice came from the Legacy Room and when he caught a glimpse of her staring at one of the Master Assassin robes—particularly Ezio Auditore's—she instantly fled and playfully giggled as she jumped off the window. Or did she?

Arno followed her and then searched the roof of the Legacy Room but found no sign of her. Little did he know that she was hanging off in one of the ledges of the domed roof on the twelve o' clock position of the miniature tower.

"Celestine?" Arno looked around and she peeked over the edge and then got back up, she sneakily crept behind him and just as he had his back turned to her, she slowly reaches out her arm and slightly pushes him down with just her fingertips but it made him flinch and have that near-fall experience.

"Made you look." She says as she bites her lip when he turned around with that look on his face.

Fortunately, he got his balance back and huffed out a sigh of relief—for both himself with his would-be fall and for finding Celestine.

"Oh God, Celestine…"

"Now, we are legitimately even—that was for bringing me up here before."

"I did say I was sorry."

"Yes, well, I wanted to have some fun." She bit her lip and curled up her lips.

"Lovely." He sarcastically replies.

Celestine turned to the direction where the Notre Dame was standing from a distance and then the toll of the bells of Notre Dame was heard across the districts.

"Well, would you look at that." Celestine muttered almost silently.

"First time to hear the bells ring?"

"I've heard them ring when I'm standing on the ground but it's my first time to hear it from this view."

"Hmm."

Suddenly a pigeon perches next to Celestine and she slowly crouches down to pat its head gently with her finger. The bird hops and perches on her gloved hand and she nestled it carefully in her hands.

Arno pats the pigeon's head with his index finger and it coos in return. When the both of them saw a flock of pigeons fly by, she nudges the pigeon's head with her nose and then helps it take off and take flight as she throws out her hands.

Fluttering right in front of Arno was a gray feather—possibly from the pigeon that just recently left them to join the flock—and he caught it right on time.

"What's that?" Celestine.

"I think our feathered friend just left us something." He says as he shows it to her between his thumb and index finger.

"How sweet." She smiles.

"Here." He tries to hand it to her.

"No, let it go."

"Why?"

"Because feathers are meant to flutter, not to be held back."

First, he seemed hesitant but she took his hand and she loosened his fingers' hold of the feather's stem and she gently blew at the feather and it fluttered and swirled away from them and into the breeze.

"There." Celestine smiles and looks up at Arno's steely eyes.

Her thumb ran across his scar and he pressed his cheek to her warm palm, taking hold of her hand he stole a kiss from her lips and unexpectedly their kiss lasted long and passionately.

"I love you." Arno mutters between kisses.

"I love you." Celestine responds as she smiles while locking her lips with Arno.

Not long enough, Arno's hand went to Celestine's chin and continues to tenderly kiss her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Una volta che l'hai finito di leggere – Once you've finished reading that
> 
> Grazie – Thank you
> 
> Mia colomba – my dove
> 
> Prego – You're welcome
> 
> Mia cara – My dear
> 
> Cosa intendi? – What do you mean?
> 
> Perdonami per prima… sai, sul tetto. – Forgive me about before... you know, up there on the roof.
> 
> FRENCH:
> 
> Merci – Thank you
> 
> Géographie et Histoire du Monde – Geography and History of the World
> 
> Je l'ai dit, une fois que vous avez fini de lire cela, que puis-je emprunter? – I said, once you've finished reading that, can I borrow it?
> 
> Ah, je suis désolé. En fait, je suis déjà fait lire. – Ah, I'm sorry. Actually, I'm already done reading it.
> 
> Traiter – Deal


	15. Scum and Skirmish

**Arno's POV**

Her lips have always been this tender ever since the time we first kissed.

My tongue even touched hers.

As we kiss, Notre Dame's bells continuously tolled.

"We should get back down." She mutters while I was still kissing, I even felt her slightly giggling.

She slowly pulls away and she was smirking, "Didn't you just hear what I just said?"

"You said we should get back down now."

"Oh, so you do have varied attention spans."

I tried to steal one more kiss from her but she stopped my lips with her fingers and then she descended to the ledge and swung herself into the window of the Legacy Room and I followed.

The two of us were stuck in the wooden maze of the attic connecting my room, the weapons room and the library but we were making our way to my bedroom since it's just across hers once she comes out.

As we descended to the bedroom, I pulled her close to kiss her forehead. She takes my hand and puts it on her warm, soft cheek. I ran my fingers across her cheek while she gazes back at me and smiles.

Wordlessly, she puts down my hand but still has hold of it and then walks out of my bedroom with our hands slowly losing hold of each other.

As she closes the door and the latch has clicked, I took off my gloves and my coat and hung it on the rack near my bed. I sat down on my bed and recalled everything that's happened back up there on the roof.

I smiled to myself and then decided to rest for a while.

Truth be told, I have never felt anything like this—not even Elise gave me a feeling like this. Only Celestine did. I felt like I had no total control of it, it just happened naturally and yet it felt so good. I didn't want to stop it, I wanted it to continue but I guess we shouldn't go on too quickly.

I spent the afternoon in the study hall of the Sanctuary and it was comfortably silent with all my Brothers—including Octavien, Siegfried and Felix—in the same room.

"Say, Arno, you've not been here for quite a while, eh?" Siegfried opens.

"Yes, well,"—I cleared my throat—"I have to make time on some things."

"By 'some things', do you mean Celestine?" Siegfried.

"That's personal." I said as I shook off my head—just the sound of her name makes me smile and laugh internally.

"I see that you've made quite a bond with her, Arno. Getting along very well, huh?" Felix.

"Yes, it would seem so."

"That's nice. I really like her when she first got here—friendly girl, she is." Felix remarks.

I eyed on Octavien, my eldest Brother among my troop of four, and he made that nod that gives me some self-gratification and continues on with his reading of a scroll from a shelf on the leftmost side of the room.

Moments later, unexpectedly Quemar suddenly shows up and greets us all inside the room.

"Afternoon, gentlemen," he turned his head left to right, "Ah, Arno, a word?"

I felt no tension at all because I haven't done any kind of trouble. As he and I walked along the richly carpeted aisle, he began to open the conversation.

"I see that you've had quite a bond with Miss Sauveterre."

"Yes, I have noticed that myself."

"And what of her progress? I heard that she closed the case of her uncle's murder."

"I'm glad to tell you that she handled it quite well in both her terms and the Brotherhood's."

We reached to the Council's office and then we were greeted by Madame Trenet and Sir Beylier. We returned gestures and I was offered a seat in their lounge and we continued.

"Since you are a Master Assassin anyway, I suppose that you are ready to verdict if she's worth to be a Master Assassin? You and your brothers have been promoted to the same rank now, I've been also hearing reports about her—she's a remarkable fighter, says your other fellow companions." Quemar continues as he serves himself a cup of tea, he offers me a cup but I politely declined.

"I should say that she doesn't let personal vendetta get in her way—regarding her uncle's murder case." Trenet.

"So, what now, Arno? Is she worth it to be in the ranks of a Master Assassin as well?"

"Not to be harsh and inconsiderate, Mentors, but I would like to see her progress more and by then maybe I have reached a decision."

"We respect that, Arno. And so will she." Beylier.

"But you must know that we think that she deserves it. She's worked her way hard into the Brotherhood." Trenet.

I was dismissed and before walking out of the lounge, I politely nodded and turned away as I went back to the study hall. My Brothers were waiting for me in the centermost table—one of the two big tables in the study room.

"Well?" Siegfried.

"Well, what?" Arno.

"What did Quemar and the others tell you?" Octavien.

"They want me to deliberate if I should rank up Celestine as a Master Assassin."

"Well, if you ask me, she deserves it—she fights like a man." Felix.

"I think that's an understatement, Brother, she fights better." Siegfried.

"That's quite kind of you, boys, really." A female voice suddenly rings into ours.

When I turned around, Celestine was there leaning against the lacquered banister of the study room while her arms are cross with each other. How come we didn't see her coming?! Let alone, how come I didn't see her coming there?

We literally jumped while Octavien and Siegfried shrieked a little, causing a short-lived, head-turning awkward moment in the study hall.

"How long have you been here?" I asked, slightly nerved.

She rolls her eyes in different directions, thinking or rather guessing how long has she been standing there.

"Well, I've been here when you started talking about me fighting like a man and then to Siegfried objecting the statement as an understatement." She finally replies.

"Oh… That." I suddenly bowed my head in childish shame.

"Don't worry, I'll take it as a compliment. Well, technically, it is a compliment in general."

Alright, she still doesn't know anything about my deliberation of her being promoted to Master Assassin. I really want to surprise her—I'll make it the best surprise of her life yet.

"So, do you boys want to do something?" Celestine starts.

"What do you mean?" Octavien.

"You know, get rid of Templars. Infiltrate and ambush their mansions and other hideouts. Fun things like that." She shrugs as she smiles.

"See, this is why I like her! I'm going!" Felix, with his cheeriness and thirst of excitement fuels up thanks to her proposition.

"Count me in." I winked and she smiles back.

As the five Assassins exited their Sanctuary, they found an Assassin intel waiting outside.

"A word, my friends?" the Assassin whispers.

"Anything fun, my Brother?" Celestine.

"I may not give you something interesting but just a bit of information, go to Les Invalides and you'll find another Brother waiting there. He's in one of the taverns, waiting for someone to accept the proposition he has."

"Then we'll get to him as quick as we can. Merci, mon frère." She claps him on the shoulder gratefully and then she runs at the lead of the group but Arno caught up with her and both were neck-and-neck, one quick glance at each other and they exchanged smiles and then they started to scale the bridge to make the route quicker and somehow shorter.

They may have startled a few citizens but they continued on until they managed to scale a few buildings and kept each other close.

It's always fun when there's more of you.

"Come on, boys, I'll race you!" Celestine says, trying to perk up her Brothers in the midst of running such a tiresome route on rooftops.

"I accept your challenge, Celestine!" Octavien.

Five Assassins racing their hearts out on rooftops, gracefully leaping across gaps and climbing onto potential handholds and then throwing themselves forward to dart ahead along with each other. They were trained to be like this—agile, enduring, strong and quick—and it is no surprise that they enjoy little games such as these which is racing against each other on rooftops.

Their laughter as they enjoy the breeze hitting their faces and making their coats flap as they jump and land rings in the rooftops. At first it would seem like they were innocent children enjoying the thrill of the chase but they were young adult Assassins in their twenties just savoring the fun moment of running and leaping across gaps.

They also waited on each other whenever they land on a huge and wide rooftop, they would wait on each until everyone jumped across and landed.

Precisely and gracefully, two of them would perform unison jumps and then land on a roll and then pick themselves up to their feet again and catch up with the others—particularly, Arno and Celestine did this when they were ahead of the group.

As they were close to Les Invalides, Celestine stopped her pace as she rolled onto the surface of a roof, she stayed crouched down as she overlooks whatever is beyond. In succession, Arno—although in good momentum—stopped as soon as he landed and sat close to Celestine; Octavien, Siegfried and Felix have already seen their two companions stop and they halted in good momentum without hitting the other with their own head.

"What is it, Celestine?" Arno.

"There are three taverns in the very street below us."

"And?"

"The Assassin is in…" she points to a green tavern with open windows and an open door, welcoming any patron who comes and goes, "There."

"What made you sure, if I may ask?" Felix.

"It's something we Assassins have known as the Eagle Vision." She replies casually.

"You mean when we get to concentrate on our surroundings?" Octavien.

"Exactly, my Brother. Now, come." She gestures her head to the direction of the tavern and then she immediately descends down.

Octavien, Siegfried, and Felix looked at Arno and all he ever did in response is to shrug and chuckle. They followed afterward.

Before they could even stand up to their knees they instantly heard the sound of a body thudding—not one but three and when they looked to their right, they saw Celestine rubbing her hands together as if dusting off the dirt.

The four male Assassins were dumbfounded as they look at their female companion finishing off three extremists in a single sitting.

"What?" she says nonchalantly and innocently as if she didn't become a killing machine five minutes ago.

"How…?" Felix says questionably.

"I killed the two from behind at the same time, the other was slow enough to see me coming so I just did it silently."

"Mon Dieu." Octavien exclaimed.

"I think it's best if we keep going now." She takes the lead again but she sweetly waves at Arno and their Brothers to come already.

"With skills like that, anybody isn't in the right mind if they don't make her a Master." Arno tells to himself. "But I sure am in the right mind…"

Even though she drives me insane sometimes. Arno thought.

As they entered the tavern peacefully, they searched for the Assassin but when they got eye contact from the bartender, he instantly recognizes them—thanks to their matching clothes—he points to the leftmost corner of the first floor.

There, they spot an Assassin enjoying himself with a glass of fine whiskey. They approached him and secretly thanked the heavens that he's still sober.

"Hello, Brother. That's a fine drink you got there." Celestine.

"Yes, it's, uhh… I think it's from Normandy—says that bartender there." His hand gestures to the direction of the bartender, then he looks down and examines the golden drink in his glass.

"The froth adds up to the flavor, doesn't it?" Celestine.

"Yes, you're quite right. Here, have a drink, milady." He hands over the glass to her.

"That's generous of you but no, thank you." With her decline, he slowly pulls back his arm and kept the drink for himself and she continued, "We were told that you have a bit of information regarding Templar activity around this part of Paris."

"Yes, I have."

"Do tell." Arno adds.

They could see the excited smirk of their fellow Assassin.

"There is a rally of rebels coming together in the district square of Les Invalides."

"What's causing the rally?" Siegfried.

"I heard that Theroigne di Mericourt's female recruits are stirring up quite a commotion. She recruited women with high spirits, you know."

"Then she knows how to build up an army—good judge of character too." Celestine remarks as she smirks.

"But they think that Theroigne is hiding somewhere around them to make an ambush—they're trying to lure her out with the threat of the guillotine towards her faction and sabotage her plans, they know that she cannot stand her people's heads plopping consecutively into a basket."

"Is she really there?" Octavien.

"I haven't heard word. But the rebels of them are being killed or taken as prisoners—they're the bait to their sabotage of Theroigne. They're getting outnumbered fast thanks to a few more leaders of the Jacobins with the police siding with them."

"Just as I thought." Celestine.

"Hurry, the five of you must get there as fast as you can. Prisoners are being sentenced to the guillotine but I assure you that they're still there, they just want Theroigne."

"Our thanks for your cooperation, Brother. Enjoy your drink."

He made a toast to them and then they left the tavern.

"What now?" Felix blurts without referring to anybody in particular.

"We need to get to that square first and see if the prisoners are still being held there. Besides, I'm sure that the rally is still ongoing." Celestine thinks out loud the plan that she has been concocting inside her mind while their intel was still talking.

That's my girl. Arno thought proudly.

"Let's go then." Siegfried cries triumphantly and then this triggered Celestine to run ahead, making the three of them follow her.

Upon arriving in the square, the crowd was still thick and rowdy while the police are trying to hold them off. Both sides had equal brute force but it's difficult to see which side overpowers the other. Celestine concentrated hard but wished that they didn't have to depend on her and her alone, as she examines the surroundings she detected not one but two Jacobins leaders in the center of the square barricaded by police.

Celestine's mind was muttering the tactics and the factors…

_With so much of them rally-goers, including di Mericourt's recruits, being taken in they sure are getting outnumbered. Two Jacobins leaders stationed separately but each is heavily guarded. Two snipers are stationed in every side of the perimeter—they're even stationed on the sides even though they're just next to huge hedges._

_The rebels are being too aggressive. They're giving themselves away. Well, I guess a distraction is a key tactic in finishing this, but wait…_

_Mericourt's there, she's only camouflaging within the crowd but what are her intentions for doing so? That I may never know and…_

_To the right, just across the street, a building has a police sniper stationed on its balcony just near enough to fire anybody because their rifles have limited ranges and it is not as far as the premium-made._

_So, everything will be in accordance… As long as there's smoke._

_But first, we need to dispatch those four guards barricading the front where the rebels are—that way, they can charge but it's risky because they'll be shot down but it won't be in vain. It's all about the hardest sacrifices, isn't it?_

"I've figured it out already." Celestine suddenly blurts out while her companions were bickering on their own tactics and whose strategy is better.

"What?" Arno attentively lends his attention.

"There are four guards making the barricade to keep the rebels away from the Templars. We need to dispatch them first in order to give access to the fighters." She directs her plan as they listened to her.

"So what do we need to do?" Felix.

"Smoke them."

"May I have the honors?" Siegfried fishes for a smoke bomb and without even asking for permission—because it's only playful sarcasm—he threw it directly to the head of the guard standing in the center left.

Without even a moment's notice, smoke began to emit from the small metal globe and then the Assassins began to silently cut down the guards while the smoke is thick.

This commotion caused the guards to turn their full alert and attention to the rebels but they were under the ceasefire command while the smoke was still visible.

"I'll take it from here, Assassins." Theroigne appears out of nowhere in the midst of the Assassins but their surprise was short-lived and set their focus on the target again.

When the smoke had already cleared, the guards already had their guns pointed at the rebels and the Assassins.

"Jacobins! Your line ends here!" Theroigne roars courageously.

"Foolish harlot!" the Jacobin leader with a rather old and etched face laughs arrogantly. "Look at you and your faction! You're getting outnumbered and eventually…" his boastful grin turns into a bitter grimace, "You'll be all gone."

In the middle of that war of words, out of anger Theroigne gunned down one sniper in front of her and the next one gunned down a fellow rebel and this triggered the war. The Jacobins leaders were safe in under their own heavily-guarded canopies as they watch the gruesome sight of rebels and police fight to the death.

Countless gunshots were heard, war cries echoed loud but the collision of their swords was louder.

The Assassins fought swiftly and expertly. Celestine was busy with a police captain and she was forced to step backwards with every blow—making the captain think that she's helpless but he thought wrong when she kicked up a bayonet and caught it swiftly with her free hand and struck him hard in the jaw with the hard end of the weapon. She sheathed her sword in a split second while her enemy was disoriented and had the bayonet as her primary weapon already, with that advantage she instantly disarmed the captain from his sword and plunged the bayonet deep into his rectum and kicked him down with the weapon stayed put.

She drew out her sword again and got back-to-back with Siegfried, the two even managed a short chat.

"When did you learn to do that?" Siegfried.

"Oh, just this morning, actually!" Celestine exclaimed as she shot down a charging police. "It's been lovely chatting with you, Brother!"

Playfully, Siegfried collided his lance with a cop and even had the insanity to talk to him, "Amazing, she learned it in a day." And then he kicked the cop down and pierced him with his lance.

Everybody was busy killing everybody but Celestine spotted the sniper in the balcony, in her horror the sniper was aiming at Arno.

"Arno!" she cries out.

He caught a glimpse of her and he spotted the sniper aimed at him, in not less than a split second he shielded himself with the cop that he was fighting off and at that same moment the gunner had already squeezed the trigger and that little black bullet made its way through the skull of his fellow policeman.

Celestine immediately ran towards the sniper's positon as she quickly scales the building's wall and then she threw him from the ledge headfirst—an instant concrete kill.

She immediately went back to the battlefield and then she fought side by side with her Brothers and Arno and Theroigne.

Little did the guards knew that behind the canopies of the Jacobins was Octavien and Felix. Each of them hid behind the wooden platforms and then pulled in one guard from the side and killed them the moment they were thrown to the ground. When the other guards have noticed, they were shot dead with a Phantom Blade from Octavien and a succession of bullets by Felix.

"Stun them! Together!" Celestine cried out to Arno and Siegfried and the three of them took stun grenades from their pockets, closed their eyes and threw the grenades to the ground to pop them.

The guards weren't prepared for that and they shambled away with their hands covering up their eyes right after the flash explosion.

With that advantage, the Assassins and Theroigne slashed down and finished the enemy guards surrounding them. Thanks to Octavien and Felix's attempts as well, it was the Jacobins who are now outnumbered.

Both leaders denied that they were, in fact, outnumbered. "Take them down." The leader who boasted towards di Mericourt growled but they were stopped even before they could reload their rifles—they were stopped by a blade to their backs. It was Octavien and he climbed up the Jacobin's canopy and pointed his Hidden Blade at him in a distance of only an inch.

"Madame di Mericourt, you fought courageously along with your faction members but your rustic equipment leads to nothing compared to our guards' artillery." The second leader, who happens to be more boastful and yet foolish, speaks out.

"That's what you think!" Celestine roars as she was charging towards to guards at the second Jacobin's platform and pushed them down with the force of her Hidden Blades plunging into their throats.

And with the Jacobin startled, he never had the time to react as she grabbed onto the ledge of the platform, grab him by the hem of his long coat and pull him down to the ground and have him at swordpoint.

Arno and Siegfried charged the remaining enemy guards and slashed them at their throats, plunged their swords into their torsos and broke their bones at the blades sever through the flesh.

"C'est fini, Jacobins! Vive La France!" Theroigne roared victoriously and with that said…

Celestine and Octavien killed the Jacobins that they caught with the edge of a blade into their hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRENCH:
> 
> Mon frère – my brother
> 
> Mon Dieu – My God
> 
> C'est fini – It's over
> 
> Vive la France! – Long live France!


	16. Joyride

The Assassins regrouped and faced Theroigne. She gave them a humble bow as thanks,

"Thank you, Assassins. Seems that we'll take care of this—erm—mess we made." Theroigne waves her sword to the massacre just past them.

"You're welcome, Theroigne. Don't be a stranger." Celestine says to her casually and di Mericourt returned the gesture.

"Come on now. We need to hide in plain sight." Octavien.

"Let's go." Celestine initiates as she begins to sprint to the open street.

**Arno's POV**

She darts away as quick as lightning. With legs of hers that slender, who wouldn't run faster than the four of us?

The four of us, fortunately, caught up with her and then we later got close to her but I raced to be side-by-side with her. I saw her cunningly smirk and then we turn to the right curb but then she suddenly vanished in the streets even though it wasn't too crowded.

From the corner of my eye, I saw leaves fall from the small garden box suspended at the rims of the window and found her scaling to the top of the roof. When my Brothers were close, I jerked my head to the direction of the building gesturing them to scale it but I already got ahead as I attempt to catch up with her but she's already stalking on the edge of the roof.

With a roof gutter that narrow, anyone could fall to their deaths due to their imbalance but as for Celestine, she's much more graceful and agile and well-balanced. Even though we were trained to have perfect balance, it's still unbelievable that she had such talent as an Assassin.

_I guess it all runs in the family._

Just when we were approaching a gap when we were losing ground, I was expecting her to jump but to my surprise, she jumped down straight into the open gap between the rooftop that was on and the one on the other side.

_Pourquoi ferait-elle ça ?!_

When I looked down, I found her running back on the street again but I observed her route and the direction that she was going.

_Really? Elle est allée à une taverne?_

"Hey, where did she go?" Felix pants.

I was still looking over the direction of the street that she just took and then eyed on the tavern that she entered just three buildings away from our standing point.

"She went there." I pointed to the tavern.

"Seriously?" Siegfried sooner caught up with us.

"Yes, seriously—she did get inside that tavern." I replied.

"But why would she?" Siegfried.

"I think it's best if we all went down and followed her, tu ne crois pas?" Octavien heavily huffs as he was the last one to reach us.

The four of us descended in our own style and then got to the same tavern that she got into. The tavern was rather the typical kind that you see across Paris every day but it was surprisingly less noisy with the murmurs and buzzing of gossip. The only women that they saw were peasant women flirting with the pub's patrons and they even saw one group that had concubines sitting on their laps as they gamble with a game of cards.

"Alright, I'm going to ask again, why would she come in here?" Siegfried.

"I think I just might ask her now." I said as I spotted her sitting at the bar enjoying a glass of liquor.

As I approached her, I sat down next to her and called for the bartender.

"Je vais devoir chose qu'elle." I told him.

He made a slight grunt and looked at me and Celestine, surprisingly and coincidentally the both of us looked up at him and then we saw his mouth curl up to make a smirk. He served me a glass and turned his back on us to clean his liquor shelf.

"So, why did you come here exactly?" I asked casually but I wasn't looking at her—and neither was she to me.

"What? Can't a lady have a drink after… a tiring day's work?" I found her smirk underneath her hood.

"At first I thought that you were insane."

"What for? For jumping straight down into the gap?"

"Yes." I chuckled at that.

She chuckled back, "I was really thirsty so I thought I could have some good wine."

"Everybody needs some good wine."

"See? Made my point."

"You were remarkable back there. In the district square."

"Grazie. Se me lo chiedete, penso che sia stato naturale."

"Cosa intendi con questo?" I turned to her finally.

"It felt like that was all I needed to do. In modo che il lavoro sia già finito." She looks back at me, the expression in her eyes was very different than usual.

"Celestine…?"

"Back in the district square… I was afraid that I wouldn't be fast enough to call out your name so that you would notice the sniper aimed at you."

I was silent but I continued to listen to her.

"I don't know what I'll do if I wasn't quick enough. I didn't even know what to do whether to go for the sniper or call you so that you will him immediately." Her voice sounded soft and a little raspy as she looks down on her glass.

"Celestine?" I reached for her left hand and removed her fingers' grip from the glass and clutched it as I fiddled them.

"What?"

"It's alright, really. And I'm actually grateful that you did that. I owe you my life, I mean it."

"You don't have to."

"No, really, I mean it. Please?"

She smiled and her tiny hand squeezed mine and then I looked back and saw my three Brothers bored and possibly have waited their whole lives to let me finish asking Celestine why did she come here in this tavern in the first place.

"I think we should get going. I think we have consumed our Brothers' patience altogether." I whispered and she looked back and found them sitting at a roundtable.

She giggled as she looked back at me and then paid for our drinks and then approached them.

"So, you really did take your time, huh, Brother?" Octavien jokes.

"We said just ask her why." Siegfried groans sarcastically as he stares into the blank space of the ceiling.

Celestine chuckles, "Alright, alright—I'm here anyway. So, do you want to go home now?"

"Yes please, Sister." Felix abruptly stands up and straightens up the creases of his coat.

We peacefully left the tavern and then I immediately spotted a lift—all I just need to do is snatch Celestine by the waist again and then she'll cut off the rope.

While the three of them were ahead, I stopped Celestine by grabbing her arm and I rolled my eyes to the lift and then to her. She smirked and then nodded and we pretended to be casually walking along the streets with our Brothers until we got closer to the lift and its rope.

Our boots scraped the ground and made that scratching sound, it caught our Brothers' combined attention and I instantly grabbed Celestine and she cuts off the rope connected to the pulley.

"That's not fair!" we heard Felix whimper as we were already being dragged up to the roof.

"Ces deux aiment une bonne chasse, font-ils pas?" I heard Octavien and then he opted the two of them to follow us but he wasn't mad, he was up for the challenge anyway.

As we got to the roof, I let go of Celestine and then we started to free-run. I noticed that she's gotten faster in running. Wait, was it the drink she had back there in the tavern?

I didn't even know that she gets driven like that.

"Celestine! Hold up! You're getting a lot faster!" I gasped just as I was on her tail.

"Mi dispiace, colomba!" she says in a tone wherein she sounded like she wasn't running at all, she sounded adorable!

"Is it…" I panted. "È il stato il drink?"

She suddenly stopped but at an acceptable momentum and then I finally had the chance to slow down a little.

"What?" I panted.

"No, it wasn't the drink. What made you think that?"

"I just noticed that you've run faster a few meters back there."

"That has nothing to do with the drink I had. I just happen to run that fast at certain times."

"Oh…" I nodded.

Both of her hands clutched my shoulder gently.

"Are you alright?" she says with a growing tone of concern.

_I love it when she does that._

"I'm just… I must have pushed myself to run too far."

"Catch your breath for a while. We can still beat them to the Sanctuary."

_How can I catch my breath when just the sight of you is taking it away?_

I wonder if I said that to her, what would she do? Would she hit me hard on the head, push me down to the ground at a certain height or—if I'm too ambitious—kiss me?

With two dangerous possibilities, I decided not to say that to her.

"Sto bene ora." I told her as I took her hands.

"Bene. Venire."

She didn't dart away from me this time, instead, she decided that we should run in a neck-and-neck kind of pace and then she would gracefully jump across the roof with her best foot stretched forward—literally—and then we would both land performing a barrel roll and then continue to run again.

I noticed that our Brothers decided to keep their level in the middle. By that, I mean they decided to free-run close to the ground. I spot Siegfried swinging from pole to pole and then later land on a hanging garden box whilst Octavien was lightly stalking the roof gutters, and lastly, Felix kept himself on the ground.

Minutes later, Celestine and I were in the lead among the five of us and then it was her idea that we should get back to the ground. At that moment, just as we were running the first stretch of ground we stepped foot on, we heard the pained scream of a middle-aged man being harassed and robbed on the coin by three—yes, trois—extremists. What's worse was that in the entire surroundings of that street, there were two groups of those red-hats on both sides yet they were standing by in alleyways or small annexes.

Of course, with Celestine being half the brawler and half the thinker, she had the courage to dispatch two of them from their behinds at the same time leaving the other alive yet startled—and also alerting the two other clusters who were possibly waiting for someone to screw it up, maybe they expected the man to fight back but I think they were never expecting, well…

_Her._

"You're mine, girl!" the spare one said as the victim scrambled away from the fighting radius and joined the spectating crowd.

She began to fight him off single-handedly but they kept coming and coming so I lend her a hand. In my peripheral vision, even for just a quick glance, I saw our Brothers already coming our way but I continued. It's like the "common courtesy" for some Assassins to help their fellow Brothers without heeding a cry for help. The moment they see trouble, there is no such thing as hesitation.

"Celestine!" I heard Octavien call out her name and then it called our attention—both Assassin and enemy—and we saw him with his lance in combat stance.

_He's going to throw it…_

His partisian darted through the air and then pierced through the chest of the bomber that was going to attack Celestine if he didn't scream. The lance protruded to the back of the bomber and Celestine somehow borrowed the partisian as she harshly pulls it out of the body, showing off a gaping five-inch hole in his chest and fountaining out blood.

This little scene gave away Felix and Siegfried to attack the other fraction of extremists who were distracted with Octavien's cry when they were rounding about us just a few minutes before they arrived.

For the meantime, she wielded the partisian while Octavien managed with his Phantom Blade but when they had enough space and a few precious seconds she returned the lance to him and she continued with her expertise—blade and pistol.

Five Assassins against seven extremists. How thrilling.

Just when we thought it was over, there was a brute towards us but he was clever enough not to bellow like a bison so that he would dispatch one and then continue with the other but he was a dead man the moment Celestine started speeding towards him.

With her Hidden Blades immediately drawn out while running, the brute thought that she was a fool for running to him but he was wrong—very wrong.

When they were halfway with each other, in her ever so perfect momentum she slides down with her right leg fully extended causing the brute to fall down hard on his buttock and then she plunged her blade hard into his face—precisely at his nose, piercing through cartilage and then bone—when she spun around to make the angle of her Hidden Blade meet the enemy's face.

"Impressionnant précise." Siegfried remarks.

And we were just there standing right in front of that product of skill. She looted and as she stood up, she was acting clueless again as if nothing epic happened.

"What? Why are you staring at me?" there she goes.

"È stato fantastico, Celestine." I went.

"Davvero? Bene grazie." She smiles casually.

After we looted almost eleven bodies and with the victim from the first group thanking us, we continued to walk on the ground but we somehow sparked some attention from the peasant folk and also some of the courtesans walking around.

With Celestine having her long hair worn down that falls to her stomach, it's rather obvious that she's a female Assassins but as we walk along the streets, peasant women and courtesans tend to take a look at us men, leaving Celestine in the eyes of other men in which I don't find comfortable at all.

I walk right up to her, keeping myself at her own pace and then whispered to her ear as the people look at us suspiciously but they don't dare to scream any word that might alarm the rebels. Well, actually the rebels are at our side and there's a chance that they might recognize her. Maybe a single word screeched could alarm the police or extremists—even though those red-hats aren't formally part of authority. They're just self-proclaimed bastards anyway.

"Stay close to me." I mumbled in her ear.

"Why?"

"Just stay close. I don't like the way they look at you."

"Who?"

"These peasant men."

"Um, alright, I guess…"

When we got out of the area where all eyes were upon us, we spotted a carriage being handled by a middle-aged ostler.

"What do you say we take a ride home instead?" Celestine initiated and the three of them cheered in agreement and at the same time exhaustion.

"What are you going to do this time, tu petite colombe?"

"Permettez-moi de gérer cela." She smirks and then she goes ahead to the ostler with the four of us just there.

With Celestine almost doing all the impressive work, I think it's making us men feel a little inferior but we can't help but be amazed by her especially when it comes to her ways with people—like negotiating with them, interrogating them without even giving the slightest tinge of intimidation to the informant or just plainly talking and conversing with them.

Maybe growing up like Celestine wouldn't be so bad at all. Actually, she has the advantage of doing these kinds of things but I guess it's kind of rude to let her do all of those—it just doesn't give a good image on men in that kind of particular way.

When we approached the ostler, they began to converse in straight Italian. They spoke so straight and a little fast that I cannot even recollect all my lessons with her mentally and that I heard some different words that she hasn't taught me yet.

"Buona pomeriggio, signor. Sei uno stalliere, presumo."

"Si, signoria. Come posso esserti d'aiuto"

"Io e i miei fratelli siamo stanchi di viaggiare a piedi. Speravamo che tu fossi così gentile da lasciarci noleggiare la tua carrozza."

"Te la lascerei prendere in prestito volentieri, cara, ma ho paura che abbia un prezzo."

"Va bene, siamo disposti a pagare." She smiles.

"Bene, sono cinquecento per tutti voi."

She started fishing for money from her pocket but then I stopped her.

"How much did he ask?"

"Five hundred."

"At least, let us pay for our own share."

"You can pay later when we're all home." She said ever so sweetly.

She handed a small pouch to the old man, he weighs it in his hand and looked at Celestine with such surprise—yet she was smiling warmly.

"Per Dio, mia cara, questo è più di cinquecento!" he exclaimed as his eyes widened.

"È tutto a posto. Era mia intenzione pagarti più di cinquecento visto che guiderò io la carrozza." She replies back coolly.

"Ma perché?" he asks.

"Dovresti andare a casa e riposarti, sembri terribilmente stanco. Per favore, pensa a questo come un nostro modo di ringraziarti per la tua generosità e la tua considerazione per me e i miei fratelli."

He bows his head at her and takes her hand, imploring and emphasizing his thanks to her. He repeatedly said, "Grazie, mia cara. Molte grazie!"

I've never seen such generosity from an Assassin ever in my life until Celestine just brought it up. And also, I have never heard such straight Italian. I think I need to work on it tonight once we get home.

As the ostler began to walk, he still turned back to Celestine to thank one more time and she would call back, "Stia attento, signore."

I turned around and my Brothers were awe-stricken. Even they have never heard Celestine speak in full Italian before until today and it was their first time to see an Assassin do a work of generosity.

As she opened the carriage door, she gestured to us as she leaned against the yoke of the horse.

"Well, boys, what are you waiting for?" she says.

"Wait, you're going to drive?" Siegfried says doubtfully.

"Relax, I have been carriage-driving when I was in Italy. I'll be gentle with the reins, I promise."

"Alright, with that said, I think I just became more doubtful." Siegfried.

Celestine giggles and continued to get the boys' arses into the coach, "Come on now. You said you boys wanted to go home, right? So, get in."

"This girl never ceases to surprise us, doesn't she?" Octavien laughs.

"Oh come on, she brings out the fun anyway! She's a good sister!" Felix cheers on as the three of them enter the coach.

"What about you, Arno?" Celestine.

"I prefer to sit outside," I said.

She smiled and shrugged and then closes the coach door. She pats the horse's muzzle first to get it to like her and it nudged its cheek to her temple.

"It likes you."

"Back in Italy, I loved to ride on horseback and whenever we're riding on the carriage, I always sit in the coachman's seat." She smiles and pats the horse on the back one last time.

"That was amazing back there." I said as I offered my hand to her to keep herself balanced as she mounts the seat.

"Thank you."

"You got to have to teach me some more words." I begged her as I sat right next to her.

"Alright, but you have to practice on your own most of the time, too."

"I will."

She snapped the reins gently and then the horse pulled the carriage and we were already wheeling across the street.

In the middle of the ride, I was looking at her most of the time rather on anywhere on the street. She would turn to me and catch me smiling, she'd smile back and her eyes gleamed happily. Even from the coachman's seat, we could hear Siegfried and Felix pretending like they were some aristocrat with the complementary accent and they would even knock on the wood near our seat and ask us to go any faster.

"I'm sorry, monsieur, but this ride can't go on any faster through the crowd!" Celestine said playfully and jokingly, "Dimwit."

I giggled at that. Literally.

She was so adorable the whole time that I couldn't help it but kiss her cheek.

And she never ceases to amaze and surprise me. This is the only time I knew she can drive a carriage because most of the women here in Paris can only ride the coach and hoot orders.

No wonder she gets along well. She's so boyish yet so sweet and kind—like what she did to that ostler back there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRENCH:
> 
> Pourquoi ferait-elle ça ?! – Why would she do that?!
> 
> Elle est allée à une taverne? – She went to a tavern?
> 
> Tu ne crois pas? – Don't you think?
> 
> Je vais devoir chose qu'elle. – I'll have what she's having.
> 
> Ces deux aiment une bonne chasse, font-ils pas? – Those two love a good chase, don't they?
> 
> Trois – Three
> 
> Impressionnant precise. – impressively precise.
> 
> Davvero? Bene grazie. – Really? Well, thank you.
> 
> tu petite colombe – my little dove
> 
> Permettez-moi de gérer cela – Just let me handle this
> 
> ITALIAN:
> 
> Se me lo chiedete, penso che sia stato naturale. – If you ask me, I think that went natural.
> 
> Cosa intendi con questo. – What do you mean by that?
> 
> In modo che il lavoro sia già finito. – So that the job will be finished already.
> 
> Mi dispiace – I'm sorry
> 
> Colomba – Dove
> 
> È il stato il drink? – Is it the drink?
> 
> Sto bene ora – I'm alright now
> 
> È stato fantastico – That was fantastic
> 
> Sei uno stalliere, presumo – You are an ostler, I presume.
> 
> Come posso esserti d'aiuto – How may I be of service?
> 
> Io e i miei fratelli siamo stanchi di viaggiare a piedi. Speravamo che tu fossi così gentile da lasciarci noleggiare la tua carrozza. – See, my brothers and I are tired from travelling on foot. We were hoping, if you'd be so kind, to let us rent your coach.
> 
> Te la lascerei prendere in prestito volentieri, cara, ma ho paura che abbia un prezzo. – I would let you, dear. But I'm afraid to tell you it has a cost.
> 
> Va bene, siamo disposti a pagare. – It's alright, we're willing to pay you.
> 
> Bene, sono cinquecento per tutti voi. – Well, it's five hundred for all of you.
> 
> Per Dio, mia cara, questo è più di cinquecento! – By God, my dear, this is more than five hundred!
> 
> È tutto a posto. Era mia intenzione pagarti più di cinquecento visto che guiderò io la carrozza. – It's alright. I intended to give you more than five hundred, because I'll be driving the coach instead.
> 
> Ma perché? – But why?
> 
> Dovresti andare a casa e riposarti, sembri terribilmente stanco. Per favore, pensa a questo come un nostro modo di ringraziarti per la tua generosità e la tua considerazione per me e i miei fratelli. – You should go home and rest, you look awfully tired. Please, think of this as our thanks for your generosity and consideration for me and my brothers.
> 
> Mia cara – my dear
> 
> Molte grazie – much thanks
> 
> Stia attento, signore – Be safe, signor


	17. Closeness

**Arno's POV**

As we arrived in the Ile de la Cite district, Celestine stopped the horse and then waited for Siegfried, Felix and Octavien to exit the carriage because it's so risky to directly get off the carriage near the Sanctuary's exit. It would give away and blow the Brotherhood's cover.

"Thanks, Celestine." Felix was polite enough to do that.

She stops the carriage next to the entryway of the east outer foyer of the mansion.

As we parked nearby, the boys already did the trouble of opening the carriage door by themselves instead of waiting for Celestine to do so like a chauffeur because basically it's not funny at all and it would make us look like arseholes for that.

"Well, I guess they left. How nice of them to close the carriage door." Celestine snickers.

I dismounted first and then offered her my hand so that she could get off the seat nicely. She pulled the horse a little to the lamppost near the entryway and then tied the reins. She made quite a tight knot and it would take at least a few minutes to untie it if ever a thief tries to take it from us.

"Celestine, may I ask you a question?" I asked as we walked to the outer foyer, to that dry fountain part.

"Yes, anything."

"How did you know that the ostler could speak Italian—let alone he himself is an Italian?"

"Well, let's just say that it's an Italian's instinct to identify a fellow Italian."

"Was it his skin that helped you identify him easily?"

_Alright, that had a little racism over there._

"Actually, from my standing distance back there before we even talked to him, I heard him say  _cavallo._ "

"Which meant horse."

"Exactly. Not everyone says 'horse' that way when you're in Paris."

 _I guess I need to work more on my Italian then. Hearing her speak in straight Italian made me feel like I should practice some more._  I thought as we finally got to the foot of the stairs.

As we got to the top, she holds me by the arm and gently squeezes it as she begins to walk to her bedroom on the north of the stairs—as you get on top—whilst my room is at the other side of the mansion's corridor.

"Alright, time to work on my Italian, I suppose."

I directly went to the library and then browsed through the shelves of a particular book that contained Italian vocabulary and then took some more, to the extreme wherein I was literally holding up three big leather-bound books in a single stack and then trying to scurry back in my bedroom.

I dropped them onto my study desk and then fixed up all the newsletters that I collected from the citizens barking out the news and handing them out to people who are passing by, folded them all in a single stash and then put them inside my drawer.

And like a student, I started with the book on the top of the stack and as I flipped open the first few pages.

_Mon Dieu, so much Italian conjugations…_

Running my fingers across the pages, I would sometimes notice that my fingertip is getting scratchy because of the dust compiled in the papers and I would just wipe it off until it becomes clumped balls f dust.

My eyes were hurting and when I thought that I mastered a single fully-Italian phrase, I would repeat it again and again until I got the emphasis, the stresses, and the accent right. I really want to impress Celestine and convince her that her teachings are paying off towards me but I sure do want her to teach me some more—that way we can spend time together.

" _Mia signoria…_ " I think I got that right.

And then I struggled some more phrases…

" _Vuoi venire a cena con me?_ " I struggled.

And then I struggled some more phrases… Phrases that I can apply to Celestine because if I have the audacity to even ask her for dinner, then I would say it in straight Italian.

And then some more that I could use for everyday routines, like talking to Italian folks that migrated to France.

" _Salve, mi chiamo_ Arno…"

I spent almost the entire day speaking Italian. From time to time, I would give up and then return to reviewing and then the cycle goes on and on.

" _Nord, sud, est, ovest ... La cappella nella parte settentrionale della città ..._ "

_Oh, Jaysus, why did I even pick out so many books?!_

I looked out the window and saw that it's still broad daylight even in the afternoon. But I continued reviewing the Italian books I took from the library and then tried constructing a single sentence without looking through the book.

" _Buona pomeriggio, mi cara_ Celestine,  _come sta_?"

And in my mind, I pretended that she responded to my greeting and then continued.

" _Venire…_  No, we both know the meaning of that. It's nothing new…"

And then did some more reading.

" _Va bene qui._ "

" _Lo vedo da qui._ "

" _A questo punto_ _._ "

And then some more self-constructed sentences, some sounded very wrong even when I translate them back to French.

Then I suddenly remembered, when I requested Italian-speaking lessons from Celestine, all she ever asked in return was sparring sessions. Perhaps it would be nice if I teach her some German words as well. I am part French and part Austrian from my mother's side but I guess it would have to wait until I excel in my Italian.

I just hope that it would impress her more than enough, more than I expect her to be but I guess I'm dreaming too much.

I read some more but I recited them mentally, looking at Italian scripts and then trying to convert them into French, constructing straight Italian sentences, phrases, and even expressions.

" _Il dolce far niente._ "

" _Hai bisogno di qualcos'altro_ _, mi colomba_?"

" _Mi sono cadute la braccia!_ "

A few more hours consumed and I was on the verge of falling asleep on the job after skipping to the second book I took and transcribing them into French. But I decided to go back to the library and then find some more transcripts of both Italian and French. Going up to the small narrow second floor where there was a small couch enough for two people to share, I took one small book that contained some more Italian words and at the same time, I found a French one as small as the first one.

Running across my fingers on the pages, and then turning to the French book to search for the synonym of the word I found as I referred to it and then tried constructing sentences both mentally and also wrote them down on a piece of blank parchment that I happen to find pressed between the pages.

Some more hours passed and I have consumed the afternoon reading and reviewing until I was at the irresistible urge to fall asleep.

And so I did doze off…

* * *

With Arno sleeping on the couch on the second floor of the library, Celestine spent her afternoon inside her room sleeping and then tying her long hair in different possible ways in which she felt comfortable until she made her own style of making a chunky braid and rolling it inwards until it turns into a braid tucked into a hollow part of her hair and then pins the loose ends so that it stays firm on the lower side of her head. As soon as she pinned the last side, she tried putting on her hood and a few untied wavy locks were showing but she didn't bother hiding them.

"It's almost dinner, I wonder what Arno's doing?" she told herself in front of her mirror and then took off her hood and hung it on the rack. "But I guess I should check on Juliette as well."

Instead of checking on Arno, she checked on Juliette who has been having a gradual recovery about her father but she was managing with Mme. Gouze's chambermaids and also Celestine herself.

She knocked on Juliette's door and upon hearing her say, "Come in." she goes inside and finds her brushing her long hair falling to the middle of her back.

Celestine walks up to her cousin sitting on the front of her mirror and Juliette took notice of Celestine's hairstyle.

"How did you do that?"

"I just braided it and rolled it inwards to tuck it in."

"You look beautiful."

"Thank you."

Celestine takes Juliette's brush from her hand and continues her brushing and she begins to play with her cousin's hair.

"You look different, Juliette."

"What do you mean?"

"You seem a little bit… blossoming than before. I know you're still coping about Uncle but it seems that your gloom has somewhat faded."

"It's nothing, really."

"Is it now? You can tell me anything." Celestine says benignly as she begins to take two thin locks of Juliette's hair from both sides and begins to intertwine them together.

"It's one of the Assassins." Juliette spills.

Celestine smiles gently, "Do tell." And she continues with braiding Juliette.

"He's the one that has a cast around his shoulder. When we last talked he said that he got the wound from a bullet but now he's recovering from it. He still wasn't allowed to wear his robes, because he was wearing just a while shirt and his trousers."

The moment Juliette described the Assassin as the one who had a shoulder injury due to a bullet, Celestine instantly recognized that particular Brother.

"It's Adrien, isn't it?" Celestine smirks as she looks back in the mirror, seeing a full view of Juliette and herself.

"Yes, it's him."

 _With Adrien still under recovery, he wasn't allowed to wear his robes for now but I have already seen him without his face cover—he's just as young as Felix, maybe around the age of nineteen or early twenties, although his stubble is still a little thin in growth; although I can't believe that my sixteen-turning-seventeen-year-old is in love with an Assassin. But she is of Assassin heritage all because of Uncle Garconi so I guess she's bound to become an Assassin as well if she decides for herself to do so._  Celestine thought as she was at the end of braiding the locks of Juliette's hair.

"You don't like him, Celestine?"

"I like him, I've talked to him sometimes before and he's quite friendly. He even looks up to the others and he's rather noble—with what he did by taking in a bullet for his fellow companion."

"Then he's a brave soul."

"Yes, he is."

Finishing the braid with a ribbon in the end, Celestine stood and took a hand mirror.

"All done," Celestine says as she reflects the braid to the bigger mirror for Juliette to see.

"It's beautiful! Thank you, Celestine!"

"You're welcome, cousin. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be going out now."

"Alright then, see you at dinner."

"Of course."

As Celestine exits her cousin's room, she went to Arno's room next. When she was about to knock, she noticed that his door was open and so she let herself in but she was surprised to see that Arno wasn't in.

"Arno?" she looked around and then noticed some books on his desk, she approaches it and discovers that it was Italian books, but she didn't find Arno anywhere and so she closed the door as she stepped away from the room.

She tried to listen to for any sounds that could mean where Arno is, if he was in the Armory then she would have heard clashing sounds and loud grunts but it was all silent. The only sound that she hears in the stage show occurring downstairs in the café area.

She had one last option: the library. Because even though Arno has books in his desk, that doesn't mean he would directly head to the library to get some more references, he would even retire to the Armory if he doesn't feel like reading.

As she goes into the library, she finds the first floor in neat order, the armchairs were still there and most of the books are in proper place until she noticed the shelf that contained the Italian books has gaps and that would solve why there were three hardbound books found on his desk and then she quietly climbed up to the second floor and found Arno sitting down on the end.

As she approached him, she thought he was awake but she soon found him dozing off. There were more books around him and just by looking at the covers, it was French and Italian. But she couldn't stop staring at Arno, she resisted her laugh as she bit her lip and quietly snickered.

She noticed that there was a piece of parchment sitting on his lap, she quietly took it and as she reads it, she was rather surprised to see it written in full Italian.

It read:

_Mi sono sentito estremamente inferiore quando ti ho sentito parlare con lo stalliere. Così ho pensato che avrei dovuto lavorare ancora un po' sul mio italiano, unendo quello che mi hai insegnato con quello che ho imparato da solo. Anche se mi piacerebbe se fossi tu a insegnarmi di nuovo, cara. Lo amo come amo te. Questo biglietto è la prova di quanto mi sono impegnato_ _... -Arno._

She was smiling at it while she was reading, she folded it as she was done. She knelt right in front of him and then caressed his cheek—he had his hood down anyway—and she was staring at the entirety of his face.

" _Perché devi essere così dannatamente adorabile?_ " she mutters to a sleeping Arno, she brushes away the loose lock of brown hair from his forehead.

Arno began to nudge and he slowly opens his eyes, he felt Celestine's palm on his cheek and sweetly kisses it.

"You seem to have a good sleep." Celestine.

"Yes, well, I was… Err…" he found the parchment in her hand.

She showed it up, "Practicing your Italian, I know. It's quite impressive, actually."

"You really think so?"

"Yes." She smiles.

"You did well with your hair." He compliments.

She sits down next to him and then checks the books that he's taken, he smoothly puts his arm around her as she reads a French transcript.

And as the minutes turned into hours, Arno habitually slumps in his seat and rests his head on Celestine's shoulder and sneaks a kiss to Celestine's neck, cheek and temple; and the reactions that she ever does are sighing, smiling, giggling and maybe nudging her cheek to his head.

"It's almost dinner, are you coming down with me?" Celestine.

"Yes, let's."

Celestine got up first but Arno sneakily grabbed her by the hand and pulled her in, causing her to land on his lap and the sneaky devil named Arno passionately kisses her. She got into the vibe anyway, she grabs him by the collars of his tailored coat and pulls him in close until there was no space between them—they were already pressed close to each other—and Arno's hands crawled to her back, securing her, and her hair, raking it with his fingers making her flex.

"Should we go now?" Celestine mutters between kisses as she smiles.

"No, let's stay for a while." Arno.

It took them a little while before they pulled away from each other and went downstairs for dinner. They had a private dinner away from the café area as they got their food, they stayed somewhere in the bar's kitchen so that they'll put away their dishes in the sink as soon as they were finished.

* * *

**Celestine's POV**

Every moment felt magical whenever I'm with him.

But upon seeing him sleep like that, as peaceful as an infant, I just couldn't help myself in snickering.

As we took our dinner, we stayed in the bar kitchen while listening to the stage show happening outside. I admit, I like theaters but I tend to be selective when it comes to the genre and the topic. All I'm hearing outside is a portrayal of a traveler who went across Europe from his homeland in Denmark and then traveling by horse and foot around the continent. Sounds a little ambitious and unrealistic but I guess it's not impossible if you have faith and determination.

Arno poured some good wine into a glasses and toasted with each other and took sips of it. Tastes like… 1756. Not a bad year.

As we finished dinner, the maids voluntarily took our plates and we left the bar kitchen. He took my hand as we were passing by the theater and I was watching the show while walking. Alright, I tend to be attracted to shows like these, it's simple yet entertaining even for simple folk.

As we got to the second floor, we went to his room but we stayed in the outdoor garden. Even if there weren't any benches, we sat on the stone center of the garden, I lied down on the ground and watched the stars and the thin clouds loom over them.

Arno did the same and put his arm around me by the waist.

"How are you going to see the stars when you're turned sideways to me?" I asked.

"I don't need to take a look at the stars, you're much better to look at for me than burning orbs of gas in space."

"Too bad you didn't see a falling star—you could have made a wish."

"I got my wish in my arms, don't need that anymore."

I couldn't help but smile and snicker, and he later joined in.  _Oh God, his beautiful laughter that makes me cringe—in an oh-so-good way—on the inside._

He kisses my neck and buries his face in my shoulder, I kiss his forehead as I look back up to the stars. It's kind of a nice evening even though in a simple setting like this, it's worth cherishing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITALIAN:
> 
> Vuoi venire a cena con me? – Would you like to have dinner with me?
> 
> Salve – Hello
> 
> Mi chiamo – My name is
> 
> Nord – north
> 
> Sud – South
> 
> Est – East
> 
> Ovest – West
> 
> La cappella nella parte settentrionale della città – The chapel in the northern side of town
> 
> Va bene qui – Here is fine
> 
> Lo vedo da qui – I can see it from here
> 
> A questo punto – At this point
> 
> Il dolce far niente – The sweetness of doing nothing
> 
> Hai bisogno di qualcos'altro? – Do you need anything else?
> 
> Mi sono caduta la braccia – I throw my arms down (expression)
> 
> Perché devi essere così dannatamente adorabile? – Why do you have to be so damn adorable?
> 
> Mi sono sentito estremamente inferiore quando ti ho sentito parlare con lo stalliere. Così ho pensato che avrei dovuto lavorare ancora un po' sul mio italiano, unendo quello che mi hai insegnato con quello che ho imparato da solo. Anche se mi piacerebbe se fossi tu a insegnarmi di nuovo, cara. Lo amo come amo te. Questo biglietto è la prova di quanto mi sono impegnato – I felt rather inferior when I heard you speaking to the ostler. So I thought I should work on my Italian some more, combining your teachings and my own learnings. Although I would love it if you come and teach me again, darling. I have always loved it as I love you. This parchment is proof that I have been reviewing so much... -Arno.


	18. Catch A Bullet

**Arno's POV**

We almost spent the night outside!

I sat up and found her dozing off—oh God, she's adorable!—and carefully scooped her up. But since we're closest to my bedroom, I decided I'd just lay her down on my bed and there will be nothing wrong if I sleep next to her  _fully-clothed._

But her intricate tucked-in hairstyle would be a total discomfort if I don't take off the pins—fortunately, they're visible and I could just pluck them out gently without disturbing the little dove.

After taking out the pins, the next thing I took off was her greaves and boots.

Since I wasn't that sleepy, I just let her sleep in my bed for tonight. To pass my time, I sat in my armchair near the globe and then continued reading the books I got from the library. I just hope I won't forget to bring them back to the shelves where they belong.

I read for hours and hours, to the point wherein the clock's hour hand was already at ten. Oh dear, I must have read too much—or was I too preoccupied with the books as I indulged in learning some more Italian words and conjugations?

Either way, I'll just be here and Celestine will be comfortable and snug in bed.

Once in a while—well,  _twice_  in a while—I would look at Celestine and see her sleeping so peacefully. Damn, she sleeps like a rock and looks like a sleeping little infant.

I couldn't help myself so I moved my chair next to the bed and then took an extra pillow. My head was angled to her, letting me have a glimpse of her and letting myself watch her sleep, but I'm still sitting on the chair.

I don't want to startle her the next morning when she wakes up with me sleeping next to her. What happened before was a different situation. At least this time she wasn't dreaming and grabbing me by the coat collar because when I gently put her down on the bed, she was limp.

But all the while, she's adorable!

I couldn't resist caressing her cheek and her hair and I was so tempted to touch her lips but perhaps I could go overboard when I do because for some reason—I couldn't control myself.

But to make things subtle, I gave her a good night kiss on her forehead.

* * *

Little by little, Arno fell asleep sitting down and laying his head on the pillow near Celestine and when morning came, Celestine woke up early and found Arno snoozing right next to her but she was surprised that only his upper body was on the bed while he was sitting on the armchair that he transferred from desk to bedside.

She smiled to herself as she caressed Arno's cheek and brushed away the loose lock from his forehead.

As quietly as she can, she scooted away from the bed without making the bed nudge to wake him up and she successfully got out of the bedroom. She went to the kitchen to grab a tray and prepared breakfast for two. She prepared a big plate of macarons enough for her and Arno to share, a pot of chamomile tea and two cups and a slice of lemon on each saucer.

As she got to the top of the stairs and pushed Arno's bedroom door open—because she left it open on purpose—and gently placed it on the bed at a safe distance wherein Arno won't hit it with his arm—or his Hidden Blade.

She gently nudged Arno's arm so as to wake him up and while he wasn't budging, she presses her lips tenderly on his temple and that did the trick.

" _Buongiorno, mi tesoro._ " She coos.

His sleepy eyes fluttered and then his fingers went to rub and pinch Celestine's cheek, and then he notices the tray of macarons and tea on the bed.

"I prepared some breakfast." She smiles.

"Sweet of you."

" _Merci._ "

Arno took some macarons in the colors red—which varied from cherry, raspberry and strawberry; and blue—that were either blueberry or mild mint. Whilst Celestine poured some tea into their cups and dropped the lemon into the tea and gave the other cup to Arno.

"The maids didn't bother helping you?"

"I didn't even ask for their assistance and I said it as politely as I could."

Both of them laughed for the both of them know that Celestine tends to be sarcastic and blunt towards other people—it just so happened that it's just how she talks and how she expresses her words.

"These are really good, where'd you get these?" Arno.

"They were just there sitting on a silver tray and so I took some for us—don't worry, I asked Mme. Gouze if I could have some for the both of us."

Celestine loved the blue ones and the dark chocolate macarons, she also loved the red ones and she ate them in different ways. She would detach the top bun of the macaron, eat the bun she just took off and then lick the cream off and then take a bite; she would eat them normally as in biting it off and savoring every single bit of it; and even licking the cream off first, putting back together the two buns and eat it without the cream.

"Well, someone's got a sweet tooth," Arno remarked.

"Seriously, it's delicious. Admit it, you love it as well."

"Well I do like them, but I love you more as much I love the taste of this."

"Well, that was smooth of you, Arno." She teases.

He gives out that charming chuckle and then continues eating macarons. While Celestine was looking at what she's eating—literally—in her peripheral vision, she sees Arno staring at her with his hand propping up his chin while he eats the macaron with the other hand.

"Why are you staring at me?" she says without even taking a glimpse of him.

"Nothing wrong with that, right?"

"Nothing wrong, I suppose."

"Then I have the right to stare at my sweet petite dove."

She awkwardly chewed the pastry in her mouth slowly and she shot him a look as if she was about to burst out giggling as she chews.

"You're adorable, darling, you really are." Celestine.

"I was about to say the same thing to you."

Finishing their tray of macarons and finishing their pot of tea, Arno rang the servant bell in his bedroom and a maid went into his bedroom and took out the tray and then Celestine wore her boots and greaves again.

"Where are you going?" Arno.

"Anywhere," Celestine says as she goes to the balcony and then jumps off with Arno following her.

As they grabbed onto the ledge and descended to the streets, they darted through the narrow annex and as they got to the open, they ran and then scaled to the nearest building they found and then found a fellow Assassin waiting for them at the side of Notre Dame.

"Speak." Celestine.

"We have a problem with the cult named Baphomet."

"Again?" Arno.

"It seems that we haven't fully dispatched them. When you killed the leaders, there were more of them that were into hiding."

"Cowards." Celestine blurted. "So, where's their nest?

"They are underground, Sister. Most of them are seeking refuge in the catacombs, making their own altars and rituals in the tunnels. I managed to discover their new big nest—in the cemetery of the chapel where there are Carmelite nuns."

"We're on it. Our thanks, Brother."

The two Assassins went to the Carmelite chapel as fast as they can, and as they were about to get close to the cemetery, the entryway was guarded by two lancers and they only let the citizens in to visit their dead and clean the tombs—these people were unaware of the nest of vipers underneath those graves.

The two of them blended as Celestine and Arno sit on a bench next to each other while blending they were already strategizing.

"We take them out with the Phantom Blade. I'll take the one on the right."

Equipping the projectile blades into the runway of the bracer, they both stretched out their arms and even before the lancers would notice that the Assassins' Phantom Blades were aimed at them, they were already limp on the ground with a dart protruding out of their foreheads.

Before the fellow extremists would even notice, Arno and Celestine darted away from their blending spot and shoved away the dead lancers out of the sight. They hid against the wall and they were quietly arguing whether they throw a smoke bomb or a poison gas bomb.

"I throw the poison first and once the fog disperses, you toss the smoke bomb, understand?" Celestine.

Arno nods and without hesitation, Celestine immediately threw the poison gas bomb at the group of enemies. The two of them watched the enemies choke and cough and suffer a severe nosebleed. And when the poison fog has already completely vanished, it was Arno's turn to toss the smoke bomb and as soon as the cloud thickened, both of them ran towards the haze and killed as many as they can while the smoke was still on.

They were aware that there were other guards roaming around and keeping watch over the cemetery. They've already killed the first group even before the smoke cleared and thy scaled the chapel as quickly as they can to perform an overhead kill.

Loading their Phantom Blades, Celestine darted a sniper with a Berserk Blade and waited for it to take effect—and by taking effect, meaning the sniper would run amok and shoot whoever and whichever extremist he sees going for him.

But the sniper was short-lived as a lancer stabbed him hard and good to the stomach with his corseque. Arno's next target was a brute and the two Assassins watched, almost as if it were a game! They were literally watching their berserk enemies kill their fellowmen and they were just there perched on the edge of the chapel's roof.

In the middle of the fight, Celestine focused her eyes on a particular tomb. Its headstone was tall and it looks like a miniature tower, she tried using her talent in scanning the area and she found that there was an entrance underneath the headstone.

"Arno, I know where the cult members are."

"Where?"

"That tombstone over there—the one with two cherubs on each side and a center steeple."

"Let's stay here for a while, I want them all dead."

"That's new to hear from you,  _tesoro._ "

"Just look at all what we can loot, who knows? They might have something we need."

"Like more bombs?"

"Exactly, dearest Celestine."

So there were at least five of the enemies left alive. Some were wounded but they were just walking it off. There were three bombers and the two others were lancers.

 _This should be interesting._  Celestine.

She assassinated two brutes as she jumped down from her perch and left the bombers startled with her entrance, using this as an advantage Arno performed the same assassinating technique to the two bombers and leaving the one for Arno to stab him from behind fatally at the kidney area.

"That was quick." Celestine chuckles, "Come on, let's go get whatever we can find in their coats and pockets."

Upon taking their time in looting the corpses, they pocketed some more bombs and to their surprise a few pieces of chocolate as well.

They immediately went into the hidden passage underneath the elaborate headstone and then quietly stalked the catacombs. They could hear voices around and as the both of them concentrated well, they figured out where the enemies are coming and just like bats, they rely on echoes bouncing across the walls of the catacombs.

As much as possible, they tried their best in keeping quiet. Celestine planned to split up with Arno, that way they can cover more ground and kill more of the cult members quicker than the two of them together in the same place, but Arno declines to that plan no matter how effective and good it sounds.

"I'm not leaving you alone, Celestine. I don't care if you say that it's better to split, but I'll never afford to stay away from you."

 _That was so romantic that I don't even know how to function myself at that moment._  Celestine thought as she bit her lip, resisting to giggle.

"Let's just go… together. Alright?" Celestine.

"That's relieving." Arno.

"Follow me then." She takes the lead as he heads straight for the left turn of the catacomb.

They hid behind the dirt wall when Celestine quickly spotted a brute with a torch. She anticipated his approach near her hiding spot, she drew out her Hidden Blade and just before the brute could turn around and pace around again…

The sound of a blade making its horrid way through human flesh was heard across the halls and the sound died as quickly as the brute did.

They continued on and they almost alarmed a bomber with a torch with their presence but Celestine was quick enough to kill him as she charges towards him with his mouth covered to keep his scream contained.

Arno dispatched the sniper with his back turned to the Assassin and they quickly managed to scurry further inside the catacombs.

The entire place was a literal maze and that they have to dispatch a lot of guards in order to go through the labyrinth the way they planned. When they were close to a wider space at the end of the path, they heard voices and they were evidently discussing their cult and other whatnots.

"This must be a few of them," Celestine mutters to Arno as they were still at a distance from the ending space.

"But they sound a lot."

Arno was about to waltz into the trap but Celestine quickly caught him by the hand and held it tight.

"Wait…" she muttered and then she squints her eyes to the gaping entrance of the wide space of the catacombs, possibly one of the intersections of the tunnel, "There's three Baphomet men there and at least seven guards."

"What do you propose we do?"

"We surprise them. Lunge directly at the cult members and then stun the guards with the stun grenade."

"I like it."

And so they executed the plan as Celestine appeared out of nowhere coming towards two Baphomet leaders and killing them with her Hidden Blade. She really calculates her hit by coming to them from behind and fatally striking them to the spines. And she quickly gunned down three snipers and blasted a single Phantom Blade to an incoming brute that looked like a charging mad bull headed for the bullfighter.

 _Oh hell, she's incredible._  Arno thought as he was executing his part of the plan.

So with Celestine already dispatching four enemies—excluding the Baphomet leaders—Arno finished the three remaining guards which were two brutes and a bomber.

There was another swordsman coming from the other end of the catacomb and he was heading straight for Arno to deal a heavy overhead strike on him but Celestine noticed him first and so she pushed him away, miscalculating their escape from the blade and she ended up being the one slashed at the shoulder blade.

"No! Celestine!" Arno cried.

Arno quickly stabbed the swordsman at the throat and then tended to Celestine.

"Celestine?"

"I'll be fine, just go on without me." She insists.

"No, I won't leave you!"

"Arno, just for once, do your duty as an Assassin! Kill the rest of the Baphomet cult at the next end of the catacomb. I swear I'll wait for you here. Go!"

With a heavy heart, Arno left, doing what Celestine asked him to do. While stalking through the halls, he felt rage growing and bubbling through his bloodstreams, giving him adrenaline to be a killing machine and he was afraid for Celestine—left alone in there, bleeding and wounded—and then he thought he should get this over with quickly so that he and Celestine can go home.

And then he thought again…

_Wise, independent, practical, bold and brave._

_Celestine is bound to be a Master Assassin!_

_Now I have enough to say to the Council to promote her!_

_But first, I need to dispatch these delusional bastards and zealots. I just hope she'll be alright._

* * *

**Arno's POV**

The rest of the cult members and its leaders are there at the bigger end of the catacombs. I have enough smoke bombs to distract them but since they're in huge numbers, I guess luring them in first with a cherry bomb would do and then choke them with a poison bomb.

Fishing out one cherry bomb and throwing it to the ground at a certain angle, it sparked and whistled in its high-pitched sound and startled the people in that area—interrupting the uninteresting discussion of the zealots—and as they approached the spot where the spark was lit, I immediately threw the poison bomb next and then they were already choking.

A stun grenade was my next option to stab as many as I can but I started off with the zealots whom I discovered to be performing a ritual wherein they stabbed someone in the heart. So that's why I heard one of them praying and chanting some Latin verses that don't sound to be religious at all.

I was too late to stop the stabbing but I have to kill the enemies inside the place where I am standing on.

They were blinded by the sight of the flash of the stun grenade and so I took the advantage of slashing them and gunning them down.

The Baphomet people were chanting some more Latin verses as if I was some kind of demonic entity in the guise of a human killing their only element of physical protection—the extremist bodyguards.

I killed them all…

They were helpless as they were fruitless with their organization.

I returned to the place where I last left Celestine and the bloodstain expanded on her back and she's slumping on the ground as she sits and leans against a pillar. Her clothes were ripped… possibly from the top layer to the inner layer.

"Celestine…?"

"Hey, you're back."

"Of course, I can never leave you here."

"My slash stings."

I crouched right in front of her so that she can bring herself on my back to carry her because I just might hit her injury.

"I'm not too heavy, aren't I?" Celestine mutters.

"No, no, it's alright. Just hold on tight." I say as I run across the halls of the catacombs, jumping over the dead bodies that we killed and then found the exit.

"Better watch your head, darling," I said as she tucked her head on my shoulder.

We finally got out to the light and then I sped to the direction of the café, I really need to get there now. Celestine's so quiet, she must be exhausted and she must have lost some blood.

_Almost there…_

_Almost…_

_Please hold on…_

I made it back to the mansion and I immediately made a ruckus in the mansion as I called for the maids to give me medical supplies and medicine for Celestine. I brought her to her own bedroom and then put her down gently face down.

I was having second thoughts on taking off her coat and vest and her undershirt. Good Lord…

I gently turned her around to take off her coat, unbutton her vest and then all that's left was her puffy white undershirt. I turned her back facing down and then tore off the shirt using my Hidden Blade.

She has that laced tank top underneath that shirt and even that was slashed. So she needs to have a new set of Assassin robes from now on.

_I never thought that she'd sacrifice herself for me. And with that, I owe her my life._

Now with her back exposed right in front of me, I saw the slash. It wasn't that long but it did take a lot of damage.

The maids arrived with basins filled with water, medicine to prevent infection, cotton, gauze, and linen. They tended to her wound and she was agonizingly screaming as she was being tended by the elderly maid who happens to know a thing or two about nursing wounds and medical procedures.

She barked orders at the younger maids, giving her this and that and whatever else she needed to clean Celestine's wound when she was almost finished, she dabbed a wet cloth dipped with water—that had a mix of medicine—on the gash and then Celestine tensed and groaned.

The elderly maid wiped it dry and then covered the wound with linen. She shoos away Arno because she was about to undress Celestine and give her new clothes. He obediently goes out of her bedroom and stays at the other end of the door and then within a few seconds—not less than a minute—the maids were already out and he let himself in, seeing Celestine in a new tank top and the elderly maid handing him a bottle.

"This is the healing ointment for her wound. Once it dries, rub it on her gash, it will make the scar fade over time. I'll check on her from time to time." The elderly maid.

" _Merci…_ "

" _Di rien, monsieur_."

Celestine was still lying down with her back facing the ceiling and he sat down by her bedside and caressed her.

"How are you feeling?"

"Less stingy."

Arno was lost in words and all she ever did was kiss her forehead and let her sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITALIAN:
> 
> Buongiorno – Good morning
> 
> Tesoro – darling/honey
> 
> FRENCH:
> 
> Merci – thank you


	19. The First Taste

That day, Arno sat close to her and even slept right next to her in the bed and then he would rub on the ointment that the elderly maid gave him twice a day—morning and evening.

When Celestine was fast asleep resting, he quietly exited the bedroom and then went to the secret passageway of the mansion that leads to the Council. He goes up on the grand staircase and then headed to the far end of the study hall—the lounge of the members of the Council.

As he passes by the common library that was usually filled with Assassins that were part-scribe, eyes followed his moves and he walks farther into the Masters' exclusive lounge in the study hall. Even his three Brothers were one of the pairs of eyes looking at Arno and it stirred curiosity and wonder among them.

"I wonder what's going on?" Felix.

"It's about our Assassin Sister." One masked Assassin replies even though the question was not directed at him.

"What about her, Marcus?" Siegfried turns his attention to the Assassin who replied to Felix's question and lent him his ears.

"She did an act of bravery." Marcus simply answers and he lets the three Assassins figure out what kind of act of bravery that Celestine committed.

"Mentors…" Arno mutters as he disrupted the Mentors' reading sessions.

Trenet was writing down a personal essay to submit to the publishing presses for the next edition of the newspaper while Quemar and Beylier were leisurely reading books from the shelves.

"Arno, we weren't expecting you. But do come in." Quemar.

Arno stood at the end of the office, where there was a grate that shows a view of the Council's grand court—where they initiate the new Assassins and also the same place where he first officially met Celestine.

"Have you made your mind about Celestine's rank in the Brotherhood?" Beylier.

He looked back at the Master, and without any kind of hesitation, he replies, "Yes, I have. And I have proof that she is worthy of being dubbed as a Master Assassin as well."

Trenet stopped her writing and turned her attention to Arno, "Do tell, young man."

"We heard that you acquired a mission in order to dispatch the remaining branch of the cult named Baphomet." Quemar, "We were reported by the intel about that." He adds.

* * *

**Arno's POV**

"She took the strike of the sword for me," I said plainly although it sounded like I was mumbling it.

"Come again?" Trenet demanded.

"I said she took the strike for me. She saved me from a sword." I repeated.

"Where did this happen?" Beylier.

"In the catacombs, where the cult was hiding. She was the one who orchestrated mostly of the tactics and the approaches. When we were already at the end of the catacombs where the majority of the cult members are staying with bodyguards—she was the one who did the first attack according to her plan and then she got hit when I almost got stabbed off-guard by a hidden swordsman."

"So, an act of bravery, hmn? It's rare to find a young woman willing to take the harm other than her comrades." Trenet remarks.

"How is she now?" Beylier.

"Well, she got hurt real bad and then the nursemaid states that she critically needs rest."

"Our regards to her health, Arno. But once she's as healthy as a horse again, do inform her that we want her at the grand court." Trenet.

"It will be done, Masters. And thank you, I really appreciate this." I say as I politely dismissed myself and then left their lounge.

As I returned to the mansion, I went back to Celestine's bedroom and found her already sitting up.

"Celestine…"

She turns around and I found her partially naked—with her back bared with the bandaged wound, she turns around ever so slightly and her corset was a little loose so her chest was visible. Her legs were covered by her rich satin blankets.

She insecurely held up the top hem of her corset as I entered her bedroom, she turns away shamefully from me—baring her bandages at me—and her let down slightly-unruly hair covered my view of the side of her face.

_I wonder, what is she ashamed of? There's nothing to be ashamed of at all._

If she gets better—once her wound heals into a scar and that scar fades—I'll surprise her with the good news that she's being promoted into Master Assassin but I guess events like those shouldn't be kept waiting and it should be carried on abruptly.

But the Council's orders were to notify Celestine once she gets better. But the girl is headstrong and I know that she doesn't like to be kept waiting.

"Celestine, if you think that you can send me away by turning your back to me, that's not going to work," I say as I walk up to her.

She didn't speak even though I've already sat down right in front of her on the bed. I finally got a view of her face, her expression was all resting in her deep brown eyes and I took off my gloves, my bracers, and my Hidden Blades and from the corner of my eye caught her looking at me.

"But you've already rubbed ointment on me, Arno." She mutters.

"That's not the case." I moved closer to her and caressed her cheek. I noticed that I have been caressing her face with my gloves on and I want to have a genuine feel of her skin with my own—and I'm guessing that she's been wanting that as well.

She pressed her cheek on harder on my warm palm, her small hands were each holding my wrist and my hand. The warmth and tenderness of her lips planted on the base of my palm and the pads of my fingers sent a tingling sensation in my spine even though I know that she genuinely meant no malice but I just can't help it.

And I really didn't help it…

I spun my arm around her waist, clutched it firmly and dragged her closer to me until I felt her chest touch mine. I felt her fingers crawl on the back of my neck and then pry up to rake my hair—it felt so good that I tensed up as I groped her waist closer. I dared myself to thrust my tongue into her mouth and she gladly welcomed it into her territory.

When our lips pulled away, my lips found its way to her neck and then to her shoulder. Her soft and faint gasps gently blowing into my ears as she reacts to me kissing the base of her neck and the middle of her throat—I was that close into kissing her chest but I didn't want to yet because it would really be too sudden for the both of us.

I felt that she was gradually sliding away from me because her thighs were so smooth, I grabbed the underside between her thighs and knees and secured them with my arms and I continued nibbling her shoulder.

"Arno…" she gently whispers as she flexes her back and grabs my neck with her little hand.

I only responded with a muffled moan as my lips were hastily traveling from the edge of her shoulder up to her jawline, licking her throat when I was already halfway. Her lips found mine and she seductively bit off my lower lip and nibbled it gently with her teeth and licked it with her soft, sweet tongue.

I felt her grip transfer to the collars of my coat, she begins to remove my coat and toss it to the floor. We continued locking at each other's lips and I willingly submitted to her as she pins me down on her bed and she sits on my lap. My fingers crawled and glided across her smooth arms and then to her back.

My fingers found the laces of her corset and one by one—even with my eyes closed and while passionately kissing her—I unlaced the satin ribbons and I left half of the laces still tied but some of them are loose now.

It was her turn to invade as she dominates over me, her hands were expertly unbuttoning my vest and unbuckling my belt; when she successfully dismantled my belt from my trousers and took off my vest as I slightly propped myself up on my elbows so that she could strip it off of me, she tossed those aside along with my coat on the floor and continues with her work as she dominantly pins me down on the bed again and I openly welcomed her to do whatever she plans to do with me. I was surprised that she tore off the neckline of my white undershirt and bared my chest, instead of just that I took off my shirt and tossed it away to the floor.

She thrusts in her tongue into my mouth just like what I did a while ago and we were already exploring each other's mouths, I seductively yet gently nibbled the tip of her tongue and she did the same thing to me— _and it felt so good._

My hands crawled eagerly downwards until I caught hold of her waist and then slid down some more until I clasped firmly of her upper thighs which made her a little bit more excited as she clutches onto my broad shoulders. I thought that if I caress her body some more, it would make her friskier and it worked until my fingertips touched the end of her bandages.

Truth be told, I really don't care about her wound—she's still beautiful in every single way there is—but there's this pang of guilt that I feel. I know that she saved me from certain death but if only I had been more alert, then she wouldn't have that gash on her back. Even if I become optimistic that her scar would heal, there's this permanent scar inside that would take forever to heal. And I wonder if she ever regrets her deed of saving me from that fatal strike from the enemy back in the catacombs. If not now, will she ever regret this sooner or later?

Does she still love me?

_You're an idiot, given the fact that you are well-educated even after your father died and that you have been given bits of advice from your own Brother, Octavien, you still don't get it?_

_Would she be doing this to you if she doesn't love you?_

_C'est de la passion, imbécile._

I thought those to myself quite deeply as we were still kissing but she must have felt the vibe of my vast thinking, she slowly pulls away and we were seeing each other eye to eye.

" _Tout va bien, ma chérie?_ "

I gazed deeply into her brown eyes, I didn't realize that it was already close to evening but I don't even bother to know more about the time, and I found that clueless expression of hers when she spotted me in the middle of my mental session of overthinking.

"No, no," I gave her a gentle, reassuring kiss on her lips, "Everything's alright."

" _Ho sentito che stavi pensando di qualcosa che è abbastanza profondo_."

I sighed to myself and I was confident that I can trust her. Hell, I would be condemned as a total idiot if I don't. So I breathed deeply and mustered all the words—and the courage—to tell her.

" _Hai dei rimpianti?_ "

" _Deplora su cosa?_ "

I didn't answer quickly enough and I was sure that she noticed my eyes rolled to her side, quickly indicating that I was referring to her wound.

"Oh, you mean this?" she nodded to where her injury is.

"Yes…" I muttered nervously.

She smiled ever so sweetly and lovingly kisses me on my forehead and then to my cheek; and when she leveled her eyes to mine, she shakes her head. My lips parted so as to say something but I was caught by surprise with her reply, I was even expecting her to be slightly scornful about it.

"Oh, Arno, I have no regrets whatsoever about my wound. However, I will regret it if that sword met your flesh and pierced through your skin—if that was what happened, then I don't have the slightest knowledge and morale on how to forgive myself for it."

 _God, she's perfect. And dear Lord, she really does love me._  I thought to myself in a triumphant voice.

 _By God, you're such a novice at this—but sometimes you're not, another good reason to have Celestine by your side because she's the one that keeps you together._  My ego rang in my head.

Upon hearing her remark, I couldn't help it but hold her chin between my thumb and pointer finger as delicately as I could, pull her face close to me and kiss her in a way of thanking her and being so grateful to have her.

"Celestine…" I tenderly muttered.

"Hmn?"

"I love you."

" _Je T'aime._ "

She and I spent the night together in her bedroom just like what happened before when I carried her and transferred her from the library to her bedroom for the first time—that was the time she was innocently dreaming and unconsciously grabbed hold of my coat's collar. We may be naked together but nothing happened throughout the night.

But just the feeling of having her in my arms is enough to for me reassure myself that I have her secured and that she's perfectly safe, nobody can take her away from me. I confirmed to myself that once I wake up, she'll still be here with me in the bed. She cuddles me warmly and puts her slender arm around my waist as we sleep under the faint light of a single lamp lit in her bedroom. The windows were partially opened—the two-door window had one open—letting in cold gusts of wind so I tucked Celestine under her thick satin blankets and stayed the night in her bed with her.

* * *

**Celestine's POV**

The next morning, I woke up having Arno still lying down next to me on the bed. He looked so peaceful, angelic and innocent when asleep—despite him being a reckless brawler that I have to heel in with an invisible leash when he's awake and out in the streets.

I gently flexed my body while I was still lying down so that my wound won't sting whenever I stretch—I can't tell whether it's the wound or the bandages being stretched that makes it stingy but either way, I was careful with my actions for now and I'm honestly not used to it, I prefer to move as briskly as I can.

I adjusted the blankets and covered him up—but not too much, of course, it's already morning and it's sunny outside—and I turned sideways to face him while he's sleeping. I brushed his loose brown locks away from his face and caressed his cheek. I ran my thumb across his stubble and then to his lower lip—which I recall biting it up, nibbling and licking it last night.

_Oh God, what happened to me last night? I really don't know what gotten into me—it just happened._

_Yes, it just happened. As for Arno's side of the story, I can't figure out because this man lying down next to me has a lot of things going on in his mind._

And I, myself, have to admit that last night was indescribably amazing and at the same time peaceful at the end. I never even thought that I would become like that when Arno provokes me, I guess I just wasn't able to control myself with the fact that something almost happened but it didn't—which is, in fact, a good thing because it will be too sudden for the both of us.

Oh, Arno.

Was he really that regretful?

I really meant what I said last night, that I had no regrets in having my wound. Because I don't know what I'll do if he was the one to take the blow. Wounds can heal, I know that, and so do scars—scars fade. But nothing can ever heal me if Arno was the one who got hurt.

I shook off the thought because it will never happen. I'll make sure that it never happens because I know we have each other's back. He's already proven that to me—that time when I was caught in a swarm of extremists when I was on my way to Juliette's old home.

Oh yes, Juliette—I wonder how's that girl and her relationship with Adrien? God, I don't even know because she was becoming a little secretive. I had to talk her out of it to spill it, she can trust me—she's of Assassin blood and there is no way that she can be associated with Templars after what happened to her family.

I kissed Arno by the temple so as not to startle him and wake up and as quietly as I could, I sat up on the bed and then tried to flex once more. Oh, my back… it's aching a little but I'll manage. My only complaint is that it's getting a little itchy now, when I was younger my mother used to tell me that when the wound begins to itch it means it is in the process of healing until it turns into a scab.

I put on my coat and fetched a basin of water and clean white rag soaked into it. One of the maids tried to help but I insisted politely that I can manage myself and that she would get back to her work or Mme. Gouze might come looking for her. I returned to my bedroom and then quietly stepped in, finding Arno still sleeping like a rock. I placed the basin on top of my side table, I took my dagger from the drawer and then cut off the knot—I have lots of bandages in here somewhere, I managed to pocket some from the cupboard in the kitchen and also bought from the apothecaries, looting bandages from enemies is the last option because I don't know where they have rubbed the bandage on themselves and it's rare to find a clean one from them too.

I took a lot of fresh dry gauzes from the second drawer and then I have a bottle of the medicine that the maid named Helena puts on the basin of water when I get my wound dabbed with the cloth.

I squeezed the water from the rag and then folded the cloth lengthwise so that I can hang it on my shoulder until I felt Arno—obviously—pulling away from the wet cloth from my shoulder and he dabs it on my wound.

"Is this pure water or does this have the medicine in it?" Arno.

"Plain water," I replied as he dabs my wound.

After wetting it with water, he dried it with the dry part of the rag and then he put a few drops of the medicine into the bowl of plain water, he soaks the same wet part of the linen and then repeats the steps. When it was dry, I felt his warm, tender lips planting on the bare skin of my back and also the wound.

"What are you doing?" I cooed.

"Kisses are the best medicine to heal your loved one's wounds—for sure, it would heal faster than the medicine alone."

I smiled at his statement, I turned around and rewarded him a kiss for his immense sweetness and for being so goddamn adorable.

"I love you." He smiles.

"I love you too,  _mi caro._ "

"Did you have a nice sleep?"

"Yes, because I had you with me." I cunningly smiled.

He smirks back at me and proceeds to put the ointment on my wound and then bandaging them after letting the ointment dry on the wound's surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITALIAN:
> 
> Ho sentito che stavi pensando di qualcosa che è abbastanza profondo. – I felt that you were thinking of something that is quite deep.
> 
> Hai dei rimpianti? – Do you have any regrets?
> 
> Deplora su cosa? – Regrets about what?
> 
> FRENCH:
> 
> Tout va bien, ma chérie? – Is everything alright, darling?
> 
> C'est de la passion, imbécile. – This is passion, you idiot.
> 
> Je T'aime – I love you.


	20. A Proposition Awaits

**Arno's POV**

As I finished rubbing the ointment on her injury's surface and then bandaged it by finishing it with a firm knot, I turned her around and clutched her by the waist again and dragged her close to me. I pressed and buried my face on her creamy lustrous skin of her shoulders and I felt her arms embrace me back, later I felt her lips press gently on my head. Her delicate fingers lifted my chin up until we found each other's eyes, the moment I found her face she was smiling ever so sweetly. I ran my thumb across her jawline and then she caught my thumb and sucked on it, she wasn't trying to seduce me—she was just being her natural sweet self.

I played along with her, cupping her cheeks with my hands and playfully kissing her. From the feel of how she kisses back, I can tell that she can play the game as well; I felt her smiling in between kisses and she can even giggle while we kiss—I'm impressed and surprised at the same time. Her hands slid down to my chest and her fingers hooked onto the slightly-torn neckline of my white undershirt and she begins to pull away.

I heard her mutter something while we were trapped in each other's lips, I slightly pulled away from her face so that she can repeat her sentence coherently.

"What was that, my love?" I chirped cunningly.

"I said get dressed already." She chuckles as she claps on my shoulder.

_She acts like there's nothing on her. Is she ignoring it or is she really innately like that?_

"Alright, alright. Well, you did tear off my undershirt." I remarked.

"Sorry... Her sweet and childlike tone of voice fades and transforms into a voice of guilt with a soft and quiet tone.

"It's alright, darling. You were really full of surprises last night." I remark.

"Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you." She smirks.

"No, but you were the one with the most surprises." I silenced her with one final kiss before I put on my vest and coat and change my undershirt in my own bedroom.

I opened the wardrobe that is standing conveniently right next to my bed and took a new undershirt. Upon taking it out from the wardrobe, I detached my bracers first and then lousily shed off my outer layer of clothes like my coat and vest. I wore on my fresh white undershirt and then buttoned up my golden satin vest, the hem of my coat flapped as I swung it in the air and then slid in my arms into the sleeves.

As I got out of my bedroom, I didn't disturb Celestine and decided to leave her alone to give her some alone time because I know she needs it. She will need more rest, especially after what happened last night, and then wait for a few more hours as the day passes to have her bandages changed again.

I noticed that when I was rubbing the ointment on her injury's surface, it was not all moist anymore along with the transparent, watery fluid that oozes out from the flesh wound's raw pores. Her wound was roughening up already and then the thin pieces of skin that shed off is appearing. That means it's scabbing now—she's already in the process of healing! The ointment that the elderly maid of the house gave to us is really helping a lot in Celestine's recovery! It's lessening the time of recovering than just treatment with plain medicine and constant bandage-changing alone.

This is great! And if she heals sooner or later, then that means I can finally tell her the good news of her rank up in the Brotherhood. I guess this would be a good surprise. I still can't believe that I somehow underestimated the medicine, thinking that was only some kind of common apothecary ointment but when I rubbed it on Celestine this morning, my heart jumped to see the result of the ointment. It's been only, I don't know, the first few three to five days since that incident happened in the catacombs and look! She's already healing. She must be really healthy for her body to react and regenerate like that, including the healing works of the ointment.

When I went downstairs to the door that leads to the tunnel that is a secret passageway to the Brotherhood, I was greeted by the merchant at the first corridor and when I got to the wide hall I found my three Brothers standing by the banister of the balcony of the second floor foyer.

We have this strict rule in the Brotherhood wherein we should not be hollering at each other when we're inside the Sanctuary—like what I did when I was frantically looking for Celestine before, assuming that she fled off here—and as they caught sight of me looking up at them, their personal conference ceased and then angled their heads to me. I saw them smiling and snickering mischievously as well and I smirked at them and at the same time shot them a sarcastic look of pleasure of seeing them.

While I was climbing up the stairs, in the corner of my eye I see them following my every move. This little scenario of ours made me feel like we were troublesome youths and I was the one caught in the act and got the burden of the trouble for it while they're just there standing by and watching me walk and approach my plight of having a hitting and a long sermon.

As I got to the top of the stairs, I rejoined them and greeted them casually. Siegfried casually clapped me on the shoulder and then we continued the little conversation with me in the circle.

"Looks like someone had a good morning." Octavien jokingly blurts.

"More like a good night last night, huh, Arno?" Siegfried puts in and tries his best to resist from bursting into loudly snickering across the hall.

"What are you two talking about?" I asked nonchalantly.

"Oh, don't be smug, Brother. You really don't think that we don't know what's going on between you and Celestine, right?" Siegfried.

"I see no wrong in having a relationship with a female Assassin. Remember that Master Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad married Templar-turned-Assassin Maria Thorpe within the Brotherhood and it wasn't hindered but admitted." I defended.

Siegfried was dumbfounded and then turned to Octavien wordlessly as if to ask some help from him to rebut my statement and all he ever did was knock Siegfried's skull, "Do some reading when you have the time, will you, Siegfried?" He says while chuckling.

"Everything is permitted, Siegfried." I smirked.

"Alright, alright! I knew that anyway." Siegfried grumbled. "I was just caught off-guard."

"Sure, you were." Octavien teases.

"Hey, cut it out, you two." Felix—differing from the two jesters we have with us known to be our Brothers. He turned to me when Octavien and Siegfried finally managed to shut up, "Well, how is Celestine?"

"She's recovering pretty well. The ointment that the elderly maid of the house gave to us is speeding up her injury's healing process."

"That's good then. I hope we see her in action again." Felix enthusiastically exclaims.

He has looked up to Celestine ever since, he looks up to her as a role model—and also as a Sister in the Brotherhood and a fellow Assassin who has your back. Well, I'm not surprised with young Felix holding on to a role model. Young men his age tend to hold on a lot to their role models and I think that's good for him. It's healthy. It's a part of life and a part of growing up, and also an asset into realizing who you really are.

Felix is a good man. That's for sure. He's worked his way through in being a Master Assassin and it's no joke.

"And Arno... Yesterday, why did you walked into the Mentors' lounge?" Felix.

"Oh, well, since we're all in the rank of Masters I suppose I can tell you."

The three of them leaned closer and I started explaining.

"The Mentors thought that Celestine should be ranked up into a Master Assassin as well but it's in the protocol for an Assassin to work their way through to get the rank—and Celestine has earned it, in truth she has overdone it as you can see when we witness her fighting in the streets. And they've asked me to be the final deliberator."

"And?" Siegfried.

"I've thought about it hard and well. But when they knew about what happened to Celestine, Trenet said that when once Celestine is well again, they'll summon her in the grand court. The girl does need critical rest."

"Well, let's just make sure that we'll be there to witness our Sister's initiation to the higher rank!" Octavien says with full optimism.

I'm really glad to know that my Brothers approve of Celestine and even our relationship. In the first place, it's admitted anyway. It was only rare for a male Assassin to marry a female Assassin—whether she belonged to the same bureau or from overseas—because what typically happened is that the Assassins married off outsiders, be it commoners or nobles; take my father, for example, my mother was only a simple Austrian woman.

And with that said...

_If I ask her hand in marriage... Will she ever accept? Or will she choose to run freely across the world independently?_

_If she would choose the latter, would she still want me to be by her side?_

This is overthinking at its finest.

* * *

**Celestine's POV**

When Arno was taking long, I already assumed that he probably went to the Sanctuary for some reason.

Then that means I have time for myself inside my bedroom and I won't have any kind of shame for fooling around and walking in my corset! Truth be told, the only thing that itches more than my scabbing injury is my corset's eyeholes and laces. I know that the laces are fine satin ribbons but there's something wrong with eyeholes, it's making my back itch badly.

Earlier when Arno was putting ointment on my injury, I felt that he was picking on something in my skin. What was it? Was it a flaky particle of my scab? This must be the doing of the ointment that Madame Helena gave to us, it's a miracle-worker. And to think that a simple-looking topical medicine inside a green, tinted vial was something special and very useful when you have bad cases of flesh wounds.

I've had a lot of scars before but I think this is my biggest gash on my skin ever. Usually, my scars would just be small and accidental nicks from blades or other sorts of pointed objects, but this... This is the one that breaks the records and my history of injuries.

I was never ashamed that I have scars on me. My scars meant that someone or something attempted to destroy me but ended up failing because their means of killing me resulted to this mark that will immortalize their futile try to kill me. My scars made me feel invincible... At least, that will be one of the good things to hold on to.

As I got out of my bed and slowly dipped the balls of my feet on the soft furry carpet of my bedroom floor, I wiggled my toes and then slowly stood up finally getting a feel of my legs again. My covers rolled and fell from my thighs when I stood and then I walked to my vanity mirror to get a look at what my wound looks like now.

Since it's been applied with ointment, perhaps it wouldn't look that bad anymore. The raw, pink inner layer of my skin that has tiny stinging pores that sponges out the bodily water from the center of the wound and also the borders...

Well, it looked like the medicine regenerated my skin and sealed off the pores. So that's why Arno was picking off something on my back when he was putting the topical medicine on me.

Since I still can't clad myself in my Assassin robes, I just dressed into my breeches and a puffy white blouse and I dared myself to wear those black ladies' shoes that's been sitting there near my wardrobe ever since I first got here in the mansion. This will be the first time I wear them ever since.

Before going out, I briskly brushed my hair and then tied it up with my black ribbon. I went to the Training Room and greeted Andre.

" _Bonjour_ , Celestine. How are you feeling?" Andre.

"Gradually getting better. Thank you."

"If you're looking for Arno, he's probably out with his Brothers."

"Concocting the next commotion in the streets of Paris, eh?" I joked and then we both share a hearty chuckle.

"And your injury?"

"Getting itchy now. That means it's healing."

"That's good. You'll be holding your sword and gun sooner than you think."

"I hope this won't take long to make me rusty with my combat skills." I smiled.

"It won't, I'm sure, child."

I asked his permission if I could get a hold of the weapons and he said yes, "Just not using your good side." He adds and I sarcastically responded to that and yet we laughed it off.

Since I'm ambidextrous, I can wield the selected weapon with my left arm but it's not as swift with melee weapons as my right hand. Perhaps my left hand is only functional with a pen, pistols and blowing severe punches to the face.

When I have taken a bit too long, Andre stands up—momentarily halting his personal session of checking and polishing the weapons—and slowly takes the lance from me.

"That's enough for today, Assassin. Do not tire yourself out even though the feel of combat thrills you."

I obediently gave him the lance back, politely dismissing myself from the Training Room, I visited Juliette's room but to my surprise, she was not there and when I turned around she was there holding a silver tray of a pot of the two cups.

"Celestine? You're well?" Juliette.

"Well, not really. A gash on the back doesn't make me a cripple in the legs."

"Oh, but I'm glad I found you here because I thought of having some tea with you. Some jasmine tea would soothe your entire self. I couldn't do so before because... You know..." She stammers.

"It's because you cannot stand the gore—let alone the plain sight of a fresh flesh wound?" I continued.

She closed her eyes shut, I'm surprised that she hasn't dropped the tray, and shook off the thought of my flesh wound that was still fresh that time.

"Shush, you're making me uneasy in the stomach, cousin." She sets down the tray on my vanity desk and pours the tea into the cups.

I chuckled when she was shutting me up about the thoughts of my injury that was still fresh.

She handed to me the cup on the saucer—was that really necessary? She could have just given the just the cup—and then took hers from the tray. She sits down next to me on the bed and tries to avoid her gaze on my bandages.

"Juliette, it's alright if you stare at my wound, I won't mind. Or are you still squeamish about the topic of gore?"

"Both, I'm afraid."

After taking three sips, something that involved Juliette came into my mind.

"Juliette,"

"Yes?"

"How are you and Adrien?"

"Well, actually, we're still getting to know each other."

 _Cliché_. To be honest, I already saw that coming.

"And?"

"We're getting along fine."

"That's good."

"What about you? And that Assassin in blue?"

I smiled just at the indirect description of him, I looked up at her after taking another slow sip, "You mean Arno? Yes, well, we're getting along just fine as well."

_Maybe too fine. Heh..._

"Well, he is a fine one for you. And you can't deny that, cousin."

"Actually, Juliette—you're right. I'm glad we're having this kind of bonding, I really appreciate what you did here."

We exchanged smiles and she warmly hugged me, suddenly not caring about the bandages wrapped around me—given that there's a healing flesh wound underneath those white gauzes—but it feels so nice. The comfort of a family...

When it was already afternoon, since it's not yet time for me to change bandages and have the ointment applied, I went up to the library and sat down on my favorite armchair as I pulled out a book from one of the shelves that caught my attention. It was a book about the constellations and how they were named and discovered.

This book was damn interesting that I spent almost the entire afternoon reading it and I'm not even finished with it yet! The book's thickness was about two to three and a half inches thick and I was only at the first inch of them.

In the middle of my reading about the Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, I heard footsteps coming closer to me with every word I read. And I don't even have to look up from my book to see who it is.

"I thought you were out making trouble with your Brothers?" I blurted as I flipped a page.

He chuckled first, "Well, not really making trouble. I also thought that you were resting in bed."

"I'm not an invalid and I've had plenty of rest since last night." I answered, still not looking over from my reading.

"Of course, you're not,  _tesora_. Did you miss me?"

Alright, that was the only thing I heard that made my eyes roll up to meet his gaze.

"No." I firmly replied and then dropped my gaze away from him and continued going through the pages.

"You think too much, don't flatter yourself." I added.

His fingers pushed down my book to make me look straight at him again and then he held my chin with between his fingers, I can feel his ring finger rubbing against the underside of my jaw.

_God, this is making me squeamish but not too squeamish... Yet._

"You're bluffing." He smirked with a rather mischievously manner that doesn't look good.

_Something's going to come at me, isn't there? Obviously, there is._

I tried my best in concealing the feeling of my own tension.

"No, Arno, I'm not." I emphasized.

"Hmn..."

Oh Lord, not again.

At first, I thought it was only a simple kiss but he became as sly and playful as his smirk and his tongue makes its way into my mouth—and I submitted to it, what is wrong with me?—and I felt the tip of his tongue touch my upper palate. Then he returns to making it a simple tender kiss. I felt his hand that was under my chin slide up slightly to cup one side of my face and he continues kissing me passionately.

Oh, he's good... But I can play the game as well.

He slowly pulls away and I stole one more kiss from him, I felt him smile from a distance of a few centimeters away from my own face.

"Come now, we'll have dinner and then get your gauzes replaced." Arno.

"Can I just finish this one more chapter?" I pleaded like a child.

"Just leave it there with a bookmark." He begins to take me by the hand.

This was the kind of book that already had ribbons for bookmarks attached to the top of the inner spine of the book so I'm spared from the trouble of finding a temporary bookmark. I placed the ribbon between the fine slit of the pages and closed it and joined Arno out of the library.

We had dinner with Mme. Gouze, Andre, Juliette, the intendant and our three Assassin Brothers—well, it was a long dining table anyway, there were even four spare seats when we were eating. The entire dinnertime wasn't awkward—thankfully and amazingly—and I was asked how I was doing with the recovery and I had one general answer,

"I'm doing fine. It's beginning to heal quickly."

After dinner, we celebrated dessert with a saucer of cherries jubilee and it was exemplary—I do have a sweet tooth. Then afterward, I fetched a basin of water and went upstairs abruptly while Arno was tailing along. We closed the door and then I had a short awkward moment as I demanded Arno to turn around and not look as I took off my blouse and revealed myself in the same corset—even if I want to change to a new one already but I guess I can do that when I'm absolutely alone—and I did the same routine as last night, I took my dagger and cut off the knot of the bandage. I pulled out the new gauzes and then a clean rag with the size enough for using it both for the plain water for the first step and then the water with medicine dropped into it.

Then Arno took off his bracers and Hidden Blades so that he can properly clean my scab. He dips the rag into the basin of pure water and wipes off the bodily fluids that probably oozed out and dried up during the day; he drops in the medicine with the nauseous scent into the water and then dabs it on my injury.

And now for the second to the last step which is putting the ointment, I felt his fingers' pads rub onto the scab and later I felt his fingertips smoothly gliding across my back. Alright, he's beginning to be playful again.

"Arno..."

He plants a kiss on my bare back, "What?"

"Next time would be good, alright?" I chuckled as I turn to him and ran my fingers on his stubble.

He sighs and kisses the back of my hand, "Promise?"

I rolled my eyes in sarcastic frustration and ended up laughing softly, "Yes, promise. As long as it's next time."

He smiled and proceeds to dress my wound but I felt him hesitate.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked, a little curious than worried.

"Well, your scab doesn't show the raw skin anymore. Do you think I should still wrap it?"

I pondered and recalled what my mother told me when the scab isn't showing off the inner layer anymore—let the wound be exposed so that natural elements can heal it, trapping it and depriving it of air by bandaging it would prolong the recovery time than expected.

"No, leave it on so that the air can naturally dry it instead of humid bandages," I instructed.

"Alright." He returns the gauze into my drawer.

I abruptly turned around to face him and that kind of startled him, "Show me your bullet wound."

That meant taking off his shirt but I didn't care, I want to see if my first-aid was progressive. As he reveals his wound, I poured a few drops of the ointment on my finger and applied it on his bullet wound—it's still a small moist crater on his arm but it's not that bad.

"Thank you." Arno.

"Don't mention it." I smiled. "Well, I'm off to bed."

"You won't mind if I sleep here next to you?"

"Your choice." I replied simply as I begin to lie down, tuck myself under my blankets and try to fall asleep.

Before I could even fully fall asleep, I felt his arms wrap me up and pull me close.


	21. Fleeting Memories of the Past

**Celestine's POV**

The sunlight shone through my window and pooled on my bed, waking up with its brightness. I had to blink several times for my eyes to adjust. I checked the clock and found that I woke up quite early, I still savored the comfort of sinking into my mattress and burying myself in sheets, as I turned to my left side I found Arno sleeping like a rock—no, more like an infant—as I look at him, I really can't resist smiling so I just bit my lip to contain my laughter or else I might wake him up because of my unnecessary laughter.

"Oh, Assassin…" I mumbled quietly and sat up on my bed.

I decided to take the advantage while he's still asleep, I quickly walked up to my wardrobe to get a new top instead of this blasted, itchy corset. I took the light pink—seriously?—strapped tank top that was folded and stacked on one of the shelves of my wardrobe and then unlaced my corset. I briskly took off the corset out of my body and then wore the tank top. Well, at least it's more comfortable—without having eyeholes on the back that make you itch and leave etchings on your skin.

Sitting on my bed by his side, I watched him sleep and he looks really peaceful.

My heart skips a beat whenever I look at him and yet the longer I look, the calmer I get.  _Why?_

I know a thing or two about love but… why is it that I feel it differently from Arno? What kind of sorcery does he have for me to feel like this—or maybe he's just so damn good with women?

" _Buongiorno, amore mio._ " I heard him.

I looked down at him and he was just looking up at me.

" _Buongiorno, tesoro._ " I greeted back.

"I have to say you do have lovely skin." Out of blue, he said that.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Your back."

_Wait, was he already awake when I was dressing up?! He was only pretending to be asleep when I was naked waist down?! This sneaky cunning arsehole, he is._

I was so startled by what he said and what I thought he was talking about that I just parted lips and realized that I have uttered nothing.

"You sly little arsehole, Arno Victor Dorian." I laughed as I shook my head.

"I know." He clutches my hand and rubs it delicately with his fingers. "Let me see."

He sits up and holds both of my shoulders from behind and angles me to him so that he can see my injury.

"You're getting so much better now."

"Really?"

He runs his pointer finger on my injury and it felt a little bit smoother now.

"See?"

"Then you don't have to bandage me anymore—we just need to constantly put on the oil on me."

He brushed away the hair from my back, making it hang on my shoulders and I felt him bury his face on my back between my shoulder blades.

"Arno, can you just please let me go for one second so that I can get myself dressed in more proper clothes?" I tried budging myself away from his grasp.

"Maybe later. Please, just stay here with me first."

_What's with his sudden affection? I know he's already been sweet to me before but… Why now? And why like this?_

"You do realize that I still have my book left on the table in the library, right?" I said.

"Yes, I know. But you needed to have your medicine last night so I guess we skipped that."

"So, can I get dressed—at least in a blouse and breeches—and get back to my reading from last night?"

He slowly lets go of me and I stood up to fetch a new blouse and a fresh pair of trousers from the wardrobe and put them on. He stands up and joins me by the door and we both went to the library—sitting on the two armchairs right in front of the hearth.

As I read, I decided that I should open a conversation with him and all that I can ever think of is Juliette and Adrien.

"I can't believe Juliette is growing up—too fast." I started.

"Why?"

"She's having a relationship with Adrien."

"And you object to that?"

I shook my head, "No, I don't. I'm happy for her—besides, she's already a lady and it's normal to be like that. She'll be seventeen next month."

"Celestine, if you don't mind me asking, how old were you when you first fell in love?"

Nobody has asked me that for a long time and I tried to recall the last time that I ever fell in love before Arno…

"As far as I can remember, I was 18 years old."

"And how old are you now?"

"Twenty-seven. And you?"

"I'm twenty-eight. What did… What did he looked like?"

I tried to remember. It's been a really long time since my past lover was talked about and I really chose to forget him after that for nine years straight. But since Arno was asking for it—even though I do not know the true reason why he's asking me this but it wouldn't hurt, right?

"He kept his black hair cut short, light brown eyes and he's tall."

"Was he Italian as well or was he from a different country?"

"He's Italian, he hailed from Verona but moved here in France when he was fifteen—that's what he told me."

He fell silent.

"Why did you ask me this, anyway?"

It took him a moment to make up a good answer, "I was curious if you had someone else before me—and I wanted to know if you still knew of him. And also, I wanted to get back at myself for hurting you before when you thought that I still have thoughts of…"

"Elise?"

He looked up at me, rather shocked because I used to lose my temper whenever I hear word of her but this time I'm letting it slide, "Yes, her. I thought that if you talk about your former lover, I would get hurt the same way you got hurt for my foolish, oblivious self."

I took a deep breath, placed the ribbon between the pages and shut the book.

"I chose to forget the other boy and I don't want to talk about it even further. How could the present progress when we keep on remembering the past? Moreover, how can we move on to the future when all we ever live on to is the life we had erstwhile?"

I can see that he was attentively looking at me as he listens when I finished my question he looked at the fire of the hearth and pondered it deeply. I know that I have made my point.

Now that he's mentioned it and made me remember, I leaned back on the tall backrest of the throne-like armchair and then closed my eyes. When my field of vision was pure pitch black, random and faint fragments of memories flashed.

Whenever I'm brought to the conversation of my past, as much as I have confirmed to myself that I have forgotten them—they emerge from the deep chasms of my brain and they flash as if they only happened yesterday.

* * *

Then in that trance, Celestine remembers her younger self and her life with her past lover that hailed from Verona and moved to France and their life together... nine years prior. Her lover was a noble-blooded young man although humble and simple by heart. He was not materialistic, well-educated with great morale and he so loved Celestine that he kept her closer into his heart as if his life depended on it.

* * *

_Nine years ago…_

_His fair skin._

_His light brown eyes._

_His… Lips._

_And even his voice and ultimately, his laughter._

_A vision of when we were young—so young—he took hold of my hand and brought me wherever in the cité, bought me roses because he knew that I love roses so much because I told him when I was little, we had a garden in our house in Venice._

_We played by the shore of the river and lounged in his father's boat that was anchored at the bay. Kept me warm when the breeze blew and seeped through my clothes and bit my skin._

_And then I remembered when he departed, my first time to feel such pain before my parents' deaths, I was there with him on the docks. We met earlier before their hour of leave comes so that he can say what he wanted to say—he had several things to talk about with me._

_He was an ambitious man yet his dreams weren't of gold and glory, they were beautiful dreams—prosperity, family, and love._

_He said a lot of things to me, says that he'll write several letters for me as much as he can so that I'll remember him by, says he'll return from Verona for me once we're older and even gave out the endeavor of marrying me as we travel to Florence and live there in a bigger palazzo._

_"When I come back here, the moment I set foot in France again, I'll run from the docks to your house as fast as my legs can bring me. I'll come back to you, Celestine. And then we'll live a happy life in Italy, you'll get to relive your memories there and we'll make our own, we'll have our own family."_

_At first, I thought they were such silly delusional ambitions, I told him that we were still too young but he told me that time will come when everything would be alright once he reunites with me._

_"Alessio, please… never forget me," I muttered weakly._

_"Mai, amore. Mai. But please, when the day that my boat appears from the distance in the river, promise me you'll be there waiting at the pier—so that I'll jump off the boat and then embrace you the very first split second I step foot in France. I'll jump off the rowboat and swim my way to you at the docks the moment I see you standing from a distance!"_

_"I promise."_

_"I'll come back home to you." he sighed._

_We spent the entire day in the docks, made most of the time before his parents would arrive with their luggage. Before we could even separate, I admittedly told him that his ambitions of bringing and marrying me to Florence wasn't silly. It was beautiful. I confessed to him that I've always wanted to get married and have a family when I'm finally older._

_A few more minutes before his actual departure, he took a blue satin ribbon from his pocket and tied it around my wrist like a bracelet._

_"Wear this every day so you'll have a remembrance of me when I'm not yet sending letters. Wear it forever—from the time I come home to you, up to our wedding day when you become my very own bride, when we're already blessed with children until the day we grow old together."_

_Deep inside my mind and soul, I realized that this is love. Without depending on my parents' knowledge, I learned what pure love is by myself._

_"Celestine…"_

_"Yes?"_

_"I love you."_

_But the most painful thing he said to me was,_

_"I'll never say goodbye, because I'll come back, amore, only for you. Prometto." He whispers in my ear as he holds me tight in his arms._

_It was the most painful thing because I watched the boat drift away as he stands at the starboard side, trying to catch a glimpse of me as much as possible as the boat sails away farther from the bay._

_"Celestine Sauveterre, I love you and I will marry you!"_

_Before the boat could completely disappear, he waves at me and I wave back._

_"I'll wait…" I muttered to myself._

_And I did wait. Everyday, I waited either in my room or at the pier, ignoring the ferrymen and fishermen passing by but I wasn't that rude to ignore their greetings to me. Every week, I received letters from him—telling me that he has already missed me so, that he's returned to his family palazzo in Verona and that they're gradually prospering again in their business in Italy—and I would write back. When days turned into weeks, I endlessly received countless letters from him, telling me about his days in Verona and missing me, hoping that I still have the ribbon around my wrist, I didn't remove it even when I'm bathing—the routine repeats but I didn't care if it was repetitive, anything goes to make me feel his presence._

_Sometimes I cry myself to sleep just with the thought of him._

_And when months fleeted, when it was almost coming to a year, I was nervous and anxious why I wasn't receiving any letters. I wrote to him, asking him what was wrong. I told myself that his family business could be already bustling and that he barely has the time to write._

_To pass the time and forget my anxiety, my Father continued to train me with our sword fighting lessons. And he would console me after our sessions, telling me that everything will be alright. Have faith in Alessio, he says. And I did. I always have._

_I religiously waited at the pier almost every day, thinking that he must be planning to surprise me at the docks—that is why he hasn't been writing._

_But then my world collapsed to fine rubble when I was approached by a courier and handed me the enveloped parchment. When I ripped off the edge of the envelope, shakily, my fingers pull out the letter._

_The very last letter from him that I received was the worst. Obviously._

_I received a letter from Alessio, saying that he's been betrothed to a noble-blooded daughter because his family's business was beginning to drop badly at a certain rate. The girl fancied him but he doesn't like her at all, but he doesn't have a choice—his family needed funds—and she promised him sufficient monetary needs if he agrees to marry her. I assumed that the girl was an uneducated prick and a brat._

_I was paralyzed as I finished reading the letter. I wanted to tell myself that it's a horrible joke… a lie… but the final sentences of the letter read:_

_"Forgive me, my darling Celestine. My love, if you ever think that this letter is a paper full of lies, I'm afraid to tell you that you're wrong—even I want to tell myself that the entire engagement is a gigantic, terrible joke but I suppose we can't deceive ourselves from the hideous truth of reality. Forgive me, darling, I truly am sorry. But I'll keep my promise… I'll never say goodbye."_

_My knees failed me as I stumbled on the wooden planks of the pier, I mourned in so much anguish that my heart cringed with every sharp inhale; I found it difficult to breathe while I wept, my muscles tensed with my slightest effort of breathing even when I tried to calm myself down but it was so difficult to stop crying when there are so many scenarios running in my mind that could be actually happening right now—the nuptial engagement, for instance. I didn't care if I ended up staying the night in the docks but my father went looking for me and found me there lying down limply like a half-dead body on the wood. Since I was too dumbfounded to move, he carried me home and my mother cleaned me up and dressed me._

_And I never received another letter more._

_Years after that—particularly three years later, I found it impossible to find pure and true love. And I believed that I will never find such a man who loves wholeheartedly and sincerely until the years counted to nine._

_Until I met Arno…_

_But I was still unsure and afraid._

_It's easy to say that you love someone, but it's a little difficult on the inside. Because you're uncertain if they truly love you back. Of course, you can never manipulate somebody to love you as much as you love them, it will be against their will which is immoral. It takes time to know that person's intentions and to figure out if you're with the right one—one who will stay by your side and will refuse to leave._

_I guess that was Alessio's mistake but I can never redo the past. It's already done. And as much as possible, I did my best to forget him after I received that letter and buried him deep in the recesses of my memories._

_I won't blame Arno for bringing me back to my oblivion. I'm human anyway, I can still be hurt—even by my own self—but I'll never let it get the best of me._

* * *

She was awakened by the feeling of Arno's hand cupping her cheek whilst his thumb was rubbing away a tear that was running down her cheek to which she did not feel at all for she was too indulged with reliving her painful memory. He knelt down right in front of her as the kindle glowed on the other side of his face.

* * *

**Arno's POV**

I let her words sink in and I pondered it well.

Just as I was about to speak, I found her eyes closed but she's not asleep—because she's moving and I heard her say something indistinctly.

She must be remembering her past even though I really didn't intend her to remember but I suppose it must be her will to mentally relive her memories.

But I hope she doesn't hurt herself. It took her a while until I noticed a single tear rolling down her cheek and she flinched and opened her eyes at the same time.

" _Mi dispiace…_  Did I disturb you?" I weakly muttered.

"No…" she sobbed.

I said no more, I stood up and embraced her as tight as I could—hoping that it would be enough comfort for her to stop her weeping and I felt her hug me back as tight as her arms can hold.

"Hush, darling, everything's alright. I'm here."

She quietly sobbed, hugging me tighter and I lifted her up from her seat and took the seat and let her sit on my lap. I have no intentions of malice, I just want to comfort her and give her that as much as she wants and needs it.

When she's already ceased from crying, she looked rather better now and coddled her up. I brushed the loose locks from her hair and she detached the pins that held together her intricate braided bun and tied it up in a simple ponytail. I ran my fingers through her long, dark hair and I finally saw her smile.

"There, that's better. You're adorable when you're sad but you're more beautiful when you're happier." I smiled.

She kisses my forehead and rests her head on my shoulder and fiddles with my collar and the red tie tucked in my shirt. Within a few moments, she stood up, stretched and walked to the doorway.

"Where are you going?"

"To the Training Room." She replies.

"You sure with that?"

"Yes. You can come with me if you like."

"Don't mind if I do."

I tagged along with her and we went into the Training Room seeing Andre rearranging the weapons in their specified racks and shelves. Andre tends to hang the prized weapons on the racks for display and puts the prototypes for training on a common iron-bar rack.

"Arno, Celestine." Andre greets.

"Hello, Andre." Celestine.

"Eager for another session, eh, Celestine?"

"Yes, well, I have to make use of my good side or else it'll be nothing but a limp joint."

"Very well then. Pick a weapon there on the iron bars." He gestures to the rack with a slightly-filthy rag that he was using to polish the shelves and racks.

Well, Andre tends to be a little tedious in keeping the weapons in perfect shape so it's fully understandable.

I fetched a prototype cutlass for Celestine and used an officer's rapier and we began dueling. I'm surprised that she's still skilled with her sword-arm even with that gash—well, it's supposed to be in healing so it's no hindrance whatsoever for her that is why she moves with such ease naturally.

I didn't see her trick coming when she swooped down in a curve evading my attack and countering me by sweeping me off by the backs of my shins and having me at swordpoint—wherein her sword was half an inch away from the bridge of my nose.

"Good form,  _amore._ " I complimented.

" _Grazie._ " She winks and she drops the sword and it clatters soundly at her feet and she lends me her hand to pull me up to my feet again.

I snuck a tender kiss when she pulled me up and then we heard an applause and it was certainly not Andre, I turned around to the doorway to see that it was our Brothers.

"That was a rather impressively swift form, Celestine," Siegfried remarks.

"Our Sister seems to be getting well now." Felix.

"She got you good, didn't she, Arno?" Octavien.

"How are you feeling, Celestine?" Felix.

"I'm getting better now, thank you, Felix."

"Then I guess you can be ready for the occasion, eh?" Siegfried.

I didn't panic at that even when Siegfried gave out a prominent hint about Celestine's promotion. She looked puzzled with what he said and then turned to me for some kind of confirmation,

"What occasion?" Celestine.

"You'll find out later—I promise," I said and she open-mindedly nods.

"So, how about we take on a duel, Celestine? Maybe two against one?" Felix taunts.

"Don't underestimate me, Felix." She plays along.

I backed away and stepped on the elevated floor of the training room and leaned on the lacquered banister as I watch. I bet that they don't stand a chance against her.

"Catch!" Octavien suddenly barks out as he snatches a simple lance leaning on the other weapon rack and throws it up over Siegfried, Felix, and Celestine. It's obvious that he wants to judge the little duel as well.

Siegfried was the one to catch the lance but Celestine snatched her cutlass from earlier on the floor and blocked his incoming attack by seizing it with the edge of her blade leaving a notch at the rod and then Felix draws out his word.

_I like to see how this goes._

Just when Siegfried and Felix thought that they have Celestine cornered, Felix did a fatal mistake by lunging at her but she quickly evaded it, doing the same trick that she did to me by sweeping him off from his feet and stealing his own weapon, using it against him as she points it near his chin while her original cutlass was at Siegfried.

We could all see the lively light in her eyes when in duel—even if it's just a practice duel—and she even managed to let out her charm by smirking so as to taunt and provoke Siegfried to make that particular mistake. Well, she already did have Felix surrendering to her attack, so Siegfried's the last man to face her.

_It would be hilarious if Siegfried lost to a girl—imagine, this boisterous young man losing to a she-Assassin who kept her focus even though she's already under the light of victory. But I know Siegfried, a fighting spirit despite that jester attitude._

"Your move, my Brother." Celestine called.

Impressively, he used the shaft of the lance to sweep her off her feet and brought her down to the ground but she did not lose grip of her swords—and that made me grip onto the banister and see what happens next and anticipate for her next move—and just when he was about to continue his attack pattern, she formed a cross using the swords to block Siegfried's coming spear and staggered him with that block and then kicked him at the arm sharply, most likely hitting his forearm resulting to him losing firm grip of the lance, and with that advantage she rolled away and stood behind him as she poked the cutlass's very fine tip at his nape while she's positioned in a poised and graceful stance.

"That was a good move, Siegfried—I'm impressed." She sincerely comments, there was no hint of sarcasm in her voice even though she has the tip of the sword at his neck!

_Good God, where did she learn to fight like that?!_

"Alright, Sister, I have to admit—you got me. That was really good." Siegfried surrenders.

" _Merci._ " She drops the sword's tip from his nape and he turns around and he claps her on her shoulder, congratulating her while we rewarded her with applause and she made a mock curtsy and laughed it off.

"Where did you fight like that?" Siegfried.

"My father." She replies.

"Was he an Assassin too?" Felix.

"Yes."

As Siegfried and Felix surrounded Celestine, Octavien walked up to me and he spoke softly.

"So, when are you planning to tell her?"

"Well, like I said. She'll know later, I won't let it take long."

I smiled at her when she caught me staring at me as the five of us clustered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITALIAN:
> 
> Prometto – I promise
> 
> Mai – never
> 
> Amore – darling/love
> 
> FRENCH:
> 
> Cité – City


	22. The Cunning Bastard That is De Sade

**Arno's POV**

Three weeks have passed ever since our mission to eradicate the remains of the Baphomet cult hiding in the network of catacombs at the Carmelite chapel, Celestine was healing quite well and quicker than expected too. Nursemaid Helena said that Celestine has remarkable metastasis for a 27-year-old woman.

Her injury was scabbing now, rough flakes shed off from the borders up to the very center of her wound and also the thin strips of skin are already coming off as it dries every day and as I rub on her medicine. It was turning all pinkish by now with the constant application of Helena's radical ointment.

She can finally wear her blouses more comfortably and fight out in the streets like the usual.

Whenever we go out of her bedroom, she would either stay in the garden just right outside the Training Room or go sparring with me. I'm surprised that she's better than ever and that her innate swiftness when it comes to her combat skills—like her sparring skills, her parrying, and evasion.

Every single day, I grew more eager to surprise Celestine with her rank initiation. When I'm not with her, I go to the Brotherhood every once in a while to give the Mentors a status report about Celestine's health and I assured them that it won't be long until she's fully functional again—because even though she can finally carry a sword, I won't allow her to roam around the streets fighting off guards and extremists while her scab is still flaking off.

In the span of three weeks, there were times that I would sleep in her bedroom with her but most of the time I sleep in my own bedroom. Of course, the little lady needs her space.

Every morning when I was in my bedroom, I would be surprised as I awake to see a small table with a tray with my breakfast ready—consisting a pot of warm tea, some macarons and some fruit like a whole apple or a small bowl of berries—and there could be only one person who would do this to me.

A girl named Celestine Sauveterre.

A note was left and weighted under the saucer and I carefully pulled it out. I quietly read it:

_Buongiorno, amore. Eat up. And I'll see you around the house. –C_

I chuckled at how adorable and darling she is—she may be a fine, grown woman but she has the sweet little girl in her heart.

I ate the breakfast that she prepared for me and washed my face before getting dressed. As I wore a different vest and coat, I went out of my bedroom and went to the mansion looking for her.

"Celestine?"

No answer. Cunning.

The mansion was awful quiet, the sound of a lute coming from the café was faint and it can be drowned by any other sound coming from the house. I investigated every single room in the mansion and even the extension of the café—I started in the main wing of the second floor and no, she was not in the Training Room, not in the garden, not in the library and not even in her own room and she wasn't also playing around in my bedroom. Since the last room I checked was the library, I climbed up the ladder leading myself to the maze-like attic that leads me to the Legacy Room and she wasn't there as well.

_This girl is tiring me out. What kind of sick practical joke is she concocting right now while I'm in the middle of a treasure hunt looking for her?_

I went downstairs in the first floor and then went to the intendant's study, I looked around and looked over to see if she was outside,

"Have you seen…?"

" _Mademoiselle_ Celestine? No, she didn't come by here this morning." The intendant.

"Alright, thank you." I abruptly left the intendant's office and then went to the kitchen and even the secret passage to the Sanctuary and then I checked the cage of Thomas de Carneillon's armor—still not there.

I almost gave up in looking for her until I realized I haven't checked the other side of the mansion—including the café—so I went to the platform, not disturbing the ongoing musical play and the patrons, I was greeted by the bartender and then went to the pantry right next to the bar.

I almost forgot about another secret entrance that I have installed when I renovated the entire mansion up to its last bit of façade. It's another extension of the network of the underground tunnels of the mansion that connects to the Brotherhood.

As I made my way downstairs to the underground, I could have sworn that I heard footsteps—yet I wasn't sure whose footsteps was it because even other Assassins go there to check entries and books.

"Arno!" she screeches without me seeing it coming!

Celestine's head popped out as she was about to come my way at the same time—and I didn't see her coming that she just scared the living hell out of me and made me jump, I almost lost my balance at the stairs at that moment!

"Don't…!" I panted as I clutched my chest, "Scare me like that!"

" _Mi dispiace._  But look what I found!" and then she darts away from me, coincidentally heading for the underground study.

When I already got inside and saw her scrambling around through the shelves looking for books to view, I sat down on the desk chair and continued to watch her run around like a child who just saw the Palace of Versailles for the first time.

"You've never been here?"

She stopped her erratic behavior and then turned to me, losing that excited and eager smile and replacing a face filled with guilt.

"I… I never thought this place existed in the first place." she mumbles, her tone sounded like she was ashamed that she hasn't known of this part of the mansion until today.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing…" she hung her head down and avoided my gaze.

I stood up and walked up to her to lift her chin up delicately with my fingers, "Tell me."

"I'm a disappointment—an Assassin who never knew that this place existed in the first place, another silent sanctuary for us and I didn't know about it until today." She mumbled while she maintained her eyes on mine.

I smiled and gave her a reassuring kiss on her forehead, "You're not a disappointment and it's alright."

She nods with full understanding and then goes through the bookshelves again. This girl's only interests are books, writing, and combat.

"So what do you do in here—I mean, aside from studying book entries and reports?" Celestine.

"This is where we keep all the original copies of reports and mission logs from the other Assassins—the ones who manage the other safehouses we have in every district in Paris, the report papers kept in the social clubs are mere rewritten copies to keep track of them."

"I've passed by one of those safehouses, I just didn't come inside. Those are disguised as cafés, is it not?"

"That's right—but just on the first floor. The second floor is strictly for us Assassins."

"I've never taken a mission from any of the social clubs before."

"Then maybe one day, we'll receive a mission report from one of those safehouses."

She stepped aside and peered down to see the stone's throw with a carving of the Assassins' insignia and the Creed carved in French.

And then she approached the huge globe sitting in the corner of the room and she rotated it looking for a certain country or continent.

"What are you looking for there?" I asked her even with her back turned to me.

She makes a side-glance and replies, "My home country."

I went to the other side of the globe so that I could face her even though she's not giving me any attention. She runs her gloved finger on the dusty surface of the globe and then stops it from rotating as I heard her finger tap twice on the hollow wood of the sphere.

"There."

"Venice?"

"Yes, it's right there. I looked over the shelf full of scrolls this morning while you were still asleep and tried looking for maps on certain countries and cities, fortunately, I found one for Venice." She took a medium-sized scroll from one of the placeholders of the globe's wooden frame, she eagerly unfolds it even though she hasn't placed it down flatly on the table.

"How long have you been here in this study?" I cut her off.

"I directly went here after delivering your breakfast tray." She replies casually.

_Another thing running through my mind, why is she mapping out Venice, Italy? Don't tell me she has a plan to track down her past lover from nine years ago, does she? Did I think she already moved on with that? Maybe she's just mapping out her hometown to where she used to live in that certain district._

"Why are you checking on the maps?"

"It's my way to spend leisure time, feed on my curiosity and also try to refresh my memory. It's been a long time since I last traveled to Italy."

_I remembered her when we were conversing about her story before her life here in the Brotherhood of Paris._

"Celestine?"

"Yes?"

"How long have we known each other?"

She looked up from the map of Venice, she focused her eyes on me—as I stand on the opposite side of the table—and she tries to count the months we have known each other.

"Three months." She says flatly.

"Three months…" I repeated.

"Is there something wrong, Arno?"

"Nothing at all. I just lost track of the days, didn't realize that it has already counted to months now."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Well, time really does fly fast,  _mio caro._ "

"Does it?"

"Of course."

_She doesn't seem to sense my motive or is she masking her real feelings about this?_

"But why does it passes so quickly—time, I mean?" I continued.

"If you're going to ask me, time passes when you don't mind it—apparently—and it also passes when you're enjoying."

"Enjoying what?"

"Enjoying yourself, enjoying your company with others…"

"Do you believe that?"

"I believed it as I have observed it." She answers firmly.

That was a wise answer—thanks to her self-exposure with books, she's developed this kind of logic. I noticed that her fingers were becoming shaky as her tips delicately tap on the parchment of the map and tracing the line that connects one city to another. She stares at the map one more time and walks around the corner of her left side of the table, literally passing me by but I stopped her by gently grabbing her sleeve. She stops her pace, looks at my hand clutching onto her sleeve and then looks up at me, non-verbally asking me why,

"Celestine, I sense that there is something bothering you."

"There's nothing wrong, Arno."

My hand slid down to grab hers and I gently pulled her close to me until her knee gently hit my thigh.

"No, please, tell me."

"Nothing."

"Was it yesterday? It was yesterday, wasn't it?"

She was silent. I have finally deciphered her.

"It's nothing, really." She muttered weakly.

"It's my mistake, I thought that I could hurt only myself—I didn't realize that I have hurt you as well."

She grabs me squarely by the shoulders, tries to pull me close and buries her face in my chest as she embraces me. She holds me tight and I hugged her back.

"Arno…"

"Hmn?"

"Can you remember something important for me, please?"

"Anything."

"Remember that you're my present—and I hope that you'd be my future as well."

My heart leaped in immense joy when she said that, I hugged her tighter and then left a kiss on her tender cheek.

"Everything will be alright, Celestine. I promise."

She smiles in reply. She folds the scroll again and puts it in the placeholder of the globe's frame. She returned whatever books she picked off from the shelves and I assisted her in returning the books in their proper shelves according to their type—whether it was a bound report paper, an entry book or a collected newspaper article because we take information from those as well when we aren't receiving any reports from the intel.

Just as we were finished fixing up the little mess, we heard hollow echoing footsteps and then it was complemented with heavy panting, we turned around and it was Marcus—it looks like he's brought some important news.

"I have a mission for the both of you." He gasps.

"Collect your breath first, man." Celestine.

It took him a few moments to complete gain his breath and coughed a little, "From the Marquis de Sade."

"Oh… him again, huh?" she miserably groans.

"I was told that he's being framed again by one of the spies hiding in La Cour de Miracles—he got arrested in the middle of dawn and now he's being publicly persecuted in front of the people of France at the town square of Les Invalides!"

She approaches Marcus and claps him twice on the chest, "Good work, Marcus, you can rest yourself—you've done enough help. Arno, come on!"

The two of us rushed upstairs until we caught a glimpse of the light pooling through the open doorway of the café. Briskly walking our way through the patrons lounging by the banister or at the bar, we let our feet fly as we stepped off the café but I saw her turn to a sharp left.

"Where are you—?"

She unstrapped the horse from its yoke of the carriage and mounted it, I'm not surprised because I've seen her drive the carriage we got from the ostler before—what more if she rides a horse? She trotted to my side as I looked up, apparently, she has a plan.

"Here's what I think—as much as I believe that de Sade is innocent and not affiliated with the Templars, the arsehole likes to make people jump off their breeches with such stories; the man is a 'poet' anyway—according to himself. I believe Marcus's report, I'm just not sure about de Sade's whereabouts—the overly cunning bastard."

"So you're saying we should split up?"

"Yes. You take your way to La Cour de Miracles, I'll ride to Les Invalides to see what I can find and maybe hit the arsehole in the head when the rescue and slaughter are over."

"Alright, I'll get to you as soon as I can when I find nothing in the slums." I say as I begin to take the lead in my own direction.

"I'll do the same, Arno.  _Salute, mio caro!_ "

I heard her snapping the reins and crying out, the horse neighed and then heavy thuds of hooves made the wooden bridge rumble and has startled the citizens walking along the bridge, causing them to throw themselves out of the horse's way and curse a little but we didn't mind because it passed the moment the horse and its rider disappeared from sight.

Quickly enough, I scaled the buildings and scanned the horizon as I searched for that certain tower that has been worn out through the ages—that has always been my landmark ever since I became acquainted with de Sade. There were a lot of chapels and churches—including Notre Dame herself—surrounding my current location but that worn-out tower is distinct enough to stand out from the still-alive Romanesque churches circling the district.

I quickly found it when an eagle flew off from its perch and then I wasted no time; I ran, leaped over and jumped across several rooftops and even balanced on wires and tightropes that held small banners and flags of France!

Finally arriving at the point, I sprinted my way through the pungent alleyways, mentally recalling the slum labyrinth as I run along to de Sade's den and making sharp turns at the last moment whenever I approach a fork road.

When I noticed that the streets I have been passing have more courtesans posing about at the side of the path, I knew to myself that I was close to the whore den of de Sade so I continued on as I sharply inhaled even though the paths reeked of sex, garbage, and other things. There it is, the "palace" of Marquis de Sade. I didn't care if I was disturbing the couples standing by the vicinity of the area, I barged through the den and looked around the crowds consisting of both peasant men and courtesans in brightly-colored dresses and hats with huge feathers.

Normally, I would find de Sade sitting on the velvet couch—that is obviously salvaged from the noble class—but to my surprise, he wasn't there. I asked for the ladies who aren't being patronized by the peasants of de Sade and the girl I asked said that she hasn't seen de Sade all day.

Then that means Celestine is at his correct whereabouts. Even though I know that it will be a long distance of traveling by foot, I tried anyway.

* * *

**Celestine's POV**

It has been a while since this horse was ridden, the last time I rode this steed was the time I got it from the Italian ostler and let my Brothers have a ride in the carriage—and having Arno by my side at the coachman's seat.

I don't want to brag but I know how to ride a horse when I was young, during my teenage years to be particular and I was trained when I was still living in Venice. If my father wasn't training me with a sword, then he would teach me how to approach and tame a horse, get it to trust me and then ride it in the wind. But since Venice's streets were a little narrow, he would only teach me how to command the steed to trot and gait. He has his own stallion with him as I have my own—although my horse was little younger, perhaps already in the way into being a full-fledged stallion but I was impressed when my mount was good with me and it obeyed me.

Father and I would ride to Florence, crossing the bridge that connects the two cities and even take a bigger gondola to transport the horses with us onboard. That was the first time I fell in love with the city of Florence—I loved the open pasture, I loved the sights of its palazzo and the bustling town. Whenever we would arrive at the open pasture between Florence and Monteriggioni, Father would teach me how to command the horse to gallop and jump on fallen obstacles like logs and low fences—until I got the hang of riding a horse, I instantly got interested with it, to the extent that I tried doing different tricks that I taught myself and made my father worried sick.

And then after the riding lessons and a good long rest, he and I would ride again to get back home to Venice and then ride the big gondolas again to get home. And so I grew up with the love for fencing—or swordfighting—and horse-back riding.

Galloping through the streets of Paris, startling the citizens and keeping away from the sight of guards as much as possible, I made my way to Les Invalides and slowed down my mount when I was getting closer to the town square that is usually overcrowded by activists—I'd be pretty much surprised if I come to that square without a rally.

I reined my horse to go to the street where there were no guards and luckily, I had a pretty good vantage point on-ground of the plaza. I looked carefully at the location and based on my observations—there was a cluster of rallying activists, there was that high wooden platform where the speaker stands as he speaks even though the roars of the activists are kind of drowning out his voice that's why he demands silence from them.

_But there's neither a guillotine on another platform nor the gallows._

Upon listening carefully to finally confirm myself with my doubts, I tried to make out whatever distinct words that the speaker is saying amidst the demanding shouts of the crowd.

_God damnit, can't these people shut up for at least once in their lives?_

The only coherent words that I heard from the speaker's full sentence were "Robespierre", "Royalists" and "traitors". I pressed on to anticipate if he was going to say de Sade's name but to my disappointment, no, he didn't say a single word—not even a clue—that would lead me to de Sade.

_Oh, the cunning bastard. He even managed to fool an Assassin? Seriously, did Marcus personally approach de Sade or his valet—or did he just picked this up from a different intel who was bamboozled in the first place?_

I growled at myself for falling to the joke and I swore to myself that I would slap the shit out of the Marquis once I find him.

_Where could a posh whorehouse arsehole be when he's not walking his way to the guillotine? Oh, I know—in a fucking café where most of the nobles are! But of course, he knows his own status in the society so I presume that he could just be sitting somewhere around the café but not literally in it—not even on the seats set in the outdoor patio, he'd probably be sitting at a nearby bench or fountain or garden._

_I guess Arno would be heading this way too and then realize the honest mistake like I did. Fucking de Sade._

I brought me and my horse out in the open streets, surprisingly not scaring out the citizens to see a horse in the streets—oh please, the National Guards patrol on horseback as well somewhere in the different districts—and I concentrated to where the Marquis could be lounging in a fine morning.

When I got myself a hint, I spurred my horse on a moderate speed and then headed north but then I immediately stopped my horse when I got a little far from where I stood a few minutes ago because I strangely sensed the Marquis to be near where I am. I looked around and dared myself to move forward.

" _Sbrigati…_ " I muttered to my horse as I reined him.

As moved forward, getting farther and farther from my standing point a while ago, I turned right into the intersection of streets and I knew to myself that I followed my instincts and my ability. After a few meters of walking, I finally found him sitting leisurely on a fountain's rim on an open garden.

_That son of a bitch!_

I eagerly dismounted my horse and tied its reins as quickly as I can on a nearby lamppost and approached him.

"You arsehole! And to think our intel said that you were getting executed already!"

"Well, it is true anyway." He chirped like a poet.

"What do you mean?"

"A spy framing me within in the Court of Miracles—true. My persecution—true. My head belted on the hole of the guillotine—almost true."

"Quit spitting shit, man, are you saying you escaped from your own execution?"

"I was persecuted the moment the word spread and your hooded friends started to scatter the news to you, I knew it come to you and Arno sooner or later—and I see that you're by yourself again."

_Even with the thought of him almost losing his head—literally—from the guillotine, he still has that singsong tone and that flamboyant attitude. What do I expect from a "king"?_

"We split up—he went to look for you in the Court of Miracles."

"While you came to look for me here in Les Invalides. Clever girl, always finding a quicker way to solve things."

"It's something called rational thinking and strategy, man," I grunted.

He looked to his left and I followed his direction, finding Arno finally catching up and losing his composure as he heavily pants for air.

"Calm down, Arno!" I caught him as he struggled to make a sentence.

"Ah, young love."

"Shut up. And we know that you brought us here for a reason other than boasting us your escape from your imminent doom." I hissed.

He's finally turned serious, "There are National Guards acting as heralds and couriers, they roam the streets—especially here in this district. They'll do what they can to make me appear notorious to the public, they have legalized persecution papers about me and you need to take it from them before they have spread such a horrendous false statement."

"Now why do I feel like… this has happened before?" Arno.

"Arno, my friend, Templars assume to have the capability of swaying weak minds of peasants and I make sure that those minds are not swayed."

"That is why you have us." Arno points out.

"Only for things that I cannot accomplish myself." De Sade defends.

"Boys, this is becoming a debate, let's just go find those persecution papers." I blurted.

"Your clever little girl is right, Arno—and it looks like you have a start."

We both turned around and found three guards about to seize de Sade but we stopped them with three quick shots of our Phantom Blades. As we walked up to their corpses, we fetched the projectiles and then checked their coats and pockets for particular persecution papers—and I found one from the one I shot in the throat.

"Ahh, there we go—something like that." De Sade butts in.

"Alright, we get it. Just leave it to us and go back to the Court where you're safe." I hissed.

"Did I miss anything fun?" Arno.

"Well, if you call spitting shit at Marquis de Sade fun then yes." I laughed and then I untied the horse and he rode behind me as we gaited along the streets of the district of Les Invalides to find more of those patrolling National Guards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITALIAN:
> 
> Salute – to your health
> 
> Mio caro – my dear
> 
> Sbrigati – forward


	23. The Likeness of Notre Dame's Beauty

**Celestine's POV**

We exited that street where we found de Sade and then as we got to the end of the street, I looked to my left side where I sensed there was a small squad of guards, but to my right there was also another group and I had to devise a plan quick before they spot us and become suspicious.

I halted the horse before it could completely step forward out in the open.

"Do you have a plan?" Arno.

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking. Look, there are groups of guards on both of our sides and any moment now they'll come into this intersection and spot us—they'll guess that we're siding with de Sade, which is true—but we have to dispatch both sides before they could even call attention from other patrols. But surely there are snipers in blue uniforms as well."

"Do you mind simplifying it?"

"Go to the rooftops first, see if there are any snipers—dispatch them—and when you hear my signal, make sure you're already on the ground so I can get you on horseback again."

"What's the signal?"

"As much as I don't want to spoil this grand risky plan I have in mind, since you'll see me from your vantage point which is the rooftop—I'll call your name and the moment you see me maneuvering back from the other end of the main road, make sure you're already on the ground."

"Celestine, I know I trust you—but there's something in my gut saying that what you're planning is risky."

"Where's the fun if there's no risk?" I smiled, glancing over my shoulder.

"Oh God…" he dismounts the horse and then scales the building right next to us on the left.

I waited a little bit longer so that the first group comes nearer to me and when I heard their chatter getting clearer within my earshot I slowly raised the reins and snapped them, causing the horse to neigh wildly and flail its front legs in the air. The neigh from my steed must have alerted the guards from both sides and I made a sharp turn to the left where the nearest patch of guards was there, not expecting a crazed horse ramming through their way.

I did alarm them as I ram through the cobblestone path in which they were walking on, they may have been quick enough to lousily evade me and my horse but as I got a little farther from them on the street to maneuver the horse to skid roughly and then turn their direction to ram them again, this time a few of them were ready for it.

This was a little stunt I experimented on when I was still having equestrienne lessons with my father but I did this without his guidance, I literally did this on my own when I knew to myself that I have mastered the way on how to control the horse without stressing the animal too much like a mad horseman. And I kind of made him worried sick and amazed at the same time, says that he hasn't seen that kind of move ever since his youthful days as an Assassin.

They readied their swords but they were dumb enough to do one move—they were charging towards me even though I'm still a few meters away—I drew my sword and gun and then twisted my wrist within the reins so that it's firmly tangled around my arm, I spurred the horse and it was charging towards the guards. With my pistol loaded and my sword at the ready, I slit the throat of the guard that was heading for me and shot one down—these were the ones who were ahead of the other two guards as they futilely attempt to seize me—but even before I could take down the remaining two, Arno descended from above and landed on the two guards, killing them on the spot with his Hidden Blades.

I loosened the reins, he quickly mounted the horse and adjusted his seating on the saddle. From a distance, we can already see the guards that were on the other street seeing the commotion and they were still puzzled by it which is a good advantage.

"Just hold on to me." I firmly said.

"What?"

"Just hold on to me—I have an idea."

"And that is?"

"I'm going to ram through those guards again and once we've passed through them, you take the reins and control the horse—I'll shoot them down."

" _Mon Dieu…_ " he muttered weakly and worriedly as I felt his arms wrap around me, I felt his trembling nervous hands clutch onto my waist.

"There's nothing to worry about, Arno, I swear," I assure him.

I snapped the reins again and charged through the still-confused second group of National Guards. Spurring and encouraging the horse, it exerted effort in galloping on the stone road but unlike the first group, these men really dodged the horse well. When I halted the steed at a moderate distance from the enemies, I noticed that few more guards joined the team and one of them looked like a captain—it was obvious with the black helmet and the more elaborate uniform.

"Celestine, they're coming closer." Arno indicates.

I didn't answer. I watched them cover up the distance between me and them.

"Celestine, we should go."

Still waiting…

"Celestine!" he cried when the guards were just at least a meter away from us.

"Now, Arno!" I cried and without wasting a single second, I felt him nudge forward to get full control of the reins and snapped it the moment he grasped the lines.

When I knew that he was fully-seated on the saddle, I spun my petite body around and sat on his lap face-to-face with him but I later positioned myself in an embrace so that I won't block his view of the road, he was rather surprised with my move and told him that it was part of my plan. He spurred the horse forward and I took my gun from my holster, shooting down the guards that were swarming and tailing us by foot—even though it's evidently futile and impractical—one by one. The patrolling guards who potentially have the same persecution papers that we need to get rid of from the hedged plaza of Les Invalides also joined the fun, including another captain in the squad. When I ran out of bullets, I took Arno's pistol from his holster and used it instead.

When I killed all of the guards that were chasing us, I signaled Arno to stop.

"Celestine Sauveterre," the moment I heard him say my name, I pulled away from my embracing position to face him with that smirk, "You got skills."

He halted the horse, we both dismounted the animal and shared a tender, passionate kiss amidst the mess we made. So ironic and at the same time romantic. It's France, after all. The city of love.

The both of us looted the guards and especially the captain who is most likely to have those papers. I remembered what de Sade said, the captains and the men that are second-in-command are the ones who possessed the persecution papers.

The two captains were too sure, we just have to loot the second-in-command men—these were the guards who share the common uniform as the other guards who are lower in rank. The first group that I rammed had only one of them keeping the persecution paper.

Since there was almost a dozen of them, we fetched two from the captains, one from the first group I looted from and then two from the sergeants' pockets that we killed while in hot pursuit.

"How many do we need to fetch?" Arno.

"One more," I replied.

"Where do you think it is?"

"Perhaps, you should take the lead, Arno."

"What?"

"You take the lead." I said, and then I walked up to the horse and took it by the reins, gently patting its muzzle to calm it down.

I handed him the reins and he took it, he's still surprised by the privilege I handed him.

"But, Celestine…"

"Go ahead, Arno. I swear, you take the lead and I'll follow."

He mounts the steed and just before I could even walk away to scale the building in order to find the remaining one persecution paper, he grabs me by the waist without seeing it coming and got myself seated on the saddle. Losing balance because I was so startled, I grabbed hold of him around his waist and since I haven't experienced him the one to be commanding the horse, I'm so doubtful and fearful of his skills and at the same time, I'll be so judgmental about his riding techniques.

"Don't worry, I took lessons as well—sort of!"

" _Ora ho una brutta sensazione su questo_!" my intimidating demeanor vanished when Arno had control of the reins.

" _Almeno io non sono quello che scivola il cavallo alla fine della strada principale!_ "

"At least I can do that technique without getting myself killed!"

He encouraged the steed to go but he slowed it down—finally!—when we were in the streets, and I navigated him. To the point wherein we stalked one patrol group in one narrow street which one of us needed to dismount the horse and since I gave the privilege of the mission to Arno—best for last—he dismounts the horse and then I waited.

The reason why I gave Arno the privilege of killing the guard and retrieving the papers is that…

When we split up, he went to the Court of Miracles not finding de Sade so in order to make it up to him, I give him the credit for saving de Sade by taking the last of the six persecution papers.

After a few minutes, he returns to me and the horse—when I was already at the verge of boredom—he finally shows up and shows me the last persecution paper in his hand to confirm it to me, he tucks it in one of the small pouches attached on his belt and I smiled at him and then nudged backward to give him some space for him to ride the saddle.

He mounts the saddle and I wrap my arms around him as he commands the horse and starts trotting out of the alley until we got to the main road.

* * *

**Arno's POV**

She wraps her arms around me as we trotted away from the residential street of Les Invalides. I felt her resting her head on my back.

"Are we still going to the Court of Miracles to make sure de Sade's there?"

"No, we're going home already,  _tesora._ "

She tightens her embrace around my waist and to make the ride comfortable for her, I didn't spur the horse to make it run. The horse patiently makes its way through the district streets of Les Invalides until we got to the Cite and then stopped at the side entrance of the Café Theatre, where there is the old coach stashed to the corner of the entire outer cobblestone foyer.

"Alright, Celestine time to go down now." I said.

There was no response, I didn't even feel her move. I glanced over my shoulder to see that she took a nap for the ride, well, of course horseback riding can be very tiring especially when you combine the part wherein you have to battle raging guards.

I saw her do that own stunt of hers when I was at the rooftop after dispatching the sniper that she thought to be actually there—which is really true—and I was really surprised with her skills. This girl never ceases to amaze me. Such form needs complete mastery over the years of training and she pulled it off, although it was really dangerous, she really executed that personal stunt of hers. I never even knew she was part horseman! Well,  _horsewoman._

"Celestine?" I repeated, I even shook my shoulder nearest her head gently to see if she would respond.

All I got was a sleepy moan.

I gently nudged forward so that her body would follow and adjust, with one hand supporting her I dismounted the horse and then caught her with my other arm. She fell into my arms and so I carried her all the way into the mansion via the entrance at the corner of the intendant's study because it's best not to surprise the crowd by coming in with my sleeping  _petite amie_  right in my arms. I don't want to attract attention for it might wake the little darling. I climbed as carefully as I can and then opened her bedroom door.

This little scenario reminded me of the very first time I carried her to her bedroom.

I put her down gently on her bed and this time, she wasn't holding onto my coat like a little child; I removed her boots and greaves, her Blades and bracers and her coat, I also removed the pins that held together her elaborate hairstyle. I went out to get a basin of fresh water and a clean cloth so that I can wipe off the sweat and grime on her face and neck, and also the dirt and dust that clumped and caked together on her fingers.

I gave her a sweet kiss on her forehead while she sleeps and covered her with the blanket waist up. I brushed away her hair from her face and I decided to watch over her by sleeping next to her, I like it when I cuddle her up anyway and there's nothing wrong with that. I plan to surprise her in the morning with her rank initiation.

* * *

And the next morning, Arno woke up as early as he could so that he can finally notify the Mentors that Celestine is ready to be a Master Assassin. He admits that he plans to surprise her with this and the Mentors gladly allowed, making it also a celebration for both her speedy recovery and her promotion.

And he waited for Celestine to finally arrive along with his Brothers in the study hall, lounging and casually chatting about more brawl and adventure.

Meanwhile, in the mansion, Celestine woke up just half an hour since Arno left. She looked at herself and found that her coat was neatly hanging on the backrest of her chair at her vanity mirror whilst her Hidden Blades and bracers were on her bedside table, she also found her greaves and boots neatly lined together at the far side of her bed.

She knew to herself that Arno was there with her last night.

"I must have slept throughout the afternoon yesterday, I was so exhausted." She mumbled to herself and rubbed her eyes.

She noticed a stool with a tray with a pot of tea, a cup on a saucer and a small plate of macarons, a note weighed under the platter of macarons and she took it out, the first person that she thought of when she found the note was Arno—when she brought in his breakfast tray and left a note that she weighed under the saucer.

The note read:

_"I'll see you at the Sanctuary. You need to come too, important summon from the Mentors but eat first. Je'taime. –A."_

She gingerly ate the macarons, savored their sweetness and commended Arno in her mind for picking out a tea that complemented the pastries. After eating, she didn't waste her time so she immediately got herself washed, she brushed her hair and put on fresher clothes although she retained her coat and hood, she only changed her inner shirt and vest, also her slacks. She decided to let her hair down for today and then went downstairs to the secret passage to the Sanctuary.

Emerging from the tunnel filled with candles to light up the way, she found Octavien, Arno, Siegfried, and Felix waiting for her at the line between the corridor (if they passed through the main gate by the shore of the river) and the grand foyer.

"What's the call?" Celestine.

"Celestine!" Arno excitedly hugged her and grabbed hold of her hand.

"We were expecting you, Sister." Octavien.

Celestine, rather puzzled, looks at the four Assassins and blurts, "What is the occasion? Why did the Mentors call us?"

"You'll find out if you go forward." Siegfried.

"Come on." Arno excitedly drags her to the Grand Court of the Assassins where she was first initiated—and also the first place where they officially met.

As both Celestine and Arno stood at the center of the Grand Court before the Mentors of the Brotherhood of Paris, the entire atmosphere was so silent like death that it was so deafening.

"Celestine Sauveterre, we are glad you came." Guillaume Beylier began.

"I was told that it was urgent, Mentors, I came here as fast as I could." She replied politely.

"Do you know why you were summoned here, child?" Trenet, speaking in her most regal yet gentle voice, asks the she-Assassin as she looks down from the balcony's marble banister.

"An assembly?" she replies with uncertainty, the first time she felt it.

"No, child, you are summoned here because we are proud to tell you that you have been promoted to the rank of Master Assassin." Quemar.

Celestine was dumbfounded and surprised—in a good way—and then she turned to Arno who was proudly smiling at her.

When she looked like she was looking for answers why this happened but is too choked on such surprise to talk, Arno winks at her and says, "Surprise."

"We had Arno to monitor you and your progress in your Assassin duties, and he's decided to surprise you with it today." Beylier.

"But first, take the Cup of the Masters that will flow within you once you take the chalice and drink, signifying your Mastery and your contributions to the Brotherhood of Paris." Trenet.

She walked up to the pedestal where the chalice was placed, the same way when she first drank the wine during her initiation. It was a bitter kind of wine that will send you into your subconscious matter inside your mind and make it look like it is real. But this new wine may be a little strong, but the first one was tougher, and she takes a deep breath as she sees her faint reflection in the rich maroon liquid and takes it up to her mouth to drink it.

Celestine takes it all in—including the strong kick of the flavor that made her palate and throat feel dry—she coughs for a little while and shortly regained her composure. She stepped back from the pedestal to show herself in full view of the Mentors.

"You did well on that, child, and now—wear these robes, as a symbol of your new rank and your new responsibility." Trenet speaks while Beylier comes down from the platform to hand over Celestine's new Master Assassin robes, "Remember, you now hold the responsibility of a Master Assassin. Do well as you have been granted this privilege."

"Take off your coat, my dear." Beylier.

Arno politely helps Celestine to take off her coat and then Beylier hands over the new robes to Celestine. Her new coat was navy blue that had white stripes by the trimmings of the sleeves and at the edges of the front—where the buttons and its holes are, but instead of buttons it was a chain link that can be detached and attached according to her liking. Its hood, also navy blue, has a dark grey trimming that had beautiful elaborate knots sown in golden thread. Her red waistband stays along with her belt, and so does her inside blouse and vest.

Celestine Sauveterre is now sporting her Master Assassin robes. She bows politely and respectfully as Beylier as a sign of thanks and looked up to bow at Sophie Trenet and Hervey Quemar as well.

Celestine couldn't believe it—she's finally a Master Assassin! As an unspoken way of thanks for Arno for making this the biggest surprise of her life [yet], she threw herself into his arms and he happily swings her around.

"Celestine Sauveterre, Master Assassin of the Brotherhood of Paris, go in the dark to serve the light." The Mentors recited in unison.

As she was dismissed by the Mentors, she and Arno went back to the main lobby of the Sanctuary and they crowded up Celestine happily as they attempted a big group hug, constantly congratulating her and even the other Assassins who applauded and saluted her as she turns to them.

As a celebration, the five of them—Celestine, Arno, Octavien, Siegfried, and Felix—went to the Café Theatre and ordered from the bartender one whole bottle of the Italian wine called Moscato, which is Celestine's personal favorite and they celebrated outside so as not to disrupt the show and the watchers.

They celebrated, toasted their glasses, exchanged jokes and told stories about their day and drank some more. But Arno had another surprise for her.

"Come with me." He whispers in her ear.

"Where?"

"Just come with me." He takes her by the hand and he excuses the two of them from his Brothers.

He brought her back to her bedroom where he gently propped her up to sit down in front of her mirror.

"Alright, what's going on?" Celestine giggles, still clueless about Arno's little surprise.

Arno takes out a small box from his pocket—but it was a little too big to contain a ring—and as he took off the lid, it was a silver necklace that had a pendant that looked like the front stained glass window of Notre Dame that resembled an encircled flower.

"It's beautiful. Where did you get that?" Celestine gasps as she stares at the glimmering pendant.

"From a professional jeweler and I knew that it was perfect for you." Arno cooed as he put it around Celestine's neck.

As he secured the link, he looked at their reflections in the mirror, "There. You're so beautiful."

"Thank you." Celestine smiles.

"I promise, someday it will be a ring."

She smiles back at him in the mirror and then turns to him, with the tips of their noses touching as she playfully smiles, "Someday?"

"Yes, I promise you."

"I'll be waiting."

Arno sweetly smiles back at her as he kisses her long and lovingly on her cheek, he takes her hand and kisses the back of it as well.

"Come on, the boys are waiting downstairs." He helps her stand up and they return to their little party.

But the story does not end here for there are many more trials that Celestine and Arno will stumble upon and face to defeat the adversaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITALIAN:
> 
> Ora ho una brutta sensazione su questo! – Now I have a bad feeling about this!
> 
> Almeno io non sono quello che scivola il cavallo alla fine della strada principale! – At least I'm not the one who skids the horse at the end of the main road!
> 
> FRENCH:
> 
> petite amie – girlfriend


	24. Joining the Fray

**Celestine's POV**

I really cannot believe it! I am officially a Master Assassin!

My heart was literally ripping through my chest during the entire ceremony, I was doing my best in keeping myself collected while Mentor Trenet was speaking and I almost lost it when Mentor Beylier was handing out my new robes to me! I only let it all out when I regrouped with my Brothers.

Last night was the best night of my life yet. And I can't wait to show it to Mother and Father, and also to Uncle as well but I should bring Juliette as well to visit her father. But the five of us were having too much fun with the Moscato—it was a personal favorite of mine over the vast selections of Italian wine and it's pretty good too, popular across Italy obviously because of the flavor although it was a little expensive that is why only middle-class and upper-class bars and cafes were the only ones to import that kind of wine, one of them is Café Theatre itself.

As for Arno, he never stops surprising me when he brought me back to my room and surprised me with that silver necklace he got. The pendant really caught my eye—the front stained glass window of the Notre Dame—I have never seen anything like it and he did a good job in picking it out.

I'm not the kind of lady who finds pleasure in lavish jewels and clothes but I do value them when they are sentimental to me—for instance, the necklace—because I barely ask for things like those. I'm being honest about this, not modest.

When it was getting late and we were getting tired now, we also didn't want to be drunk, so our Brothers went back to the Sanctuary while Arno and I retired inside the mansion to get to our bedrooms. Just as I was about to go to my bedroom, I found Juliette walking around the foyer.

"Juliette?"

"Oh, cousin!" she cracked, "I was about to come to you but I heard you and your friends together—I didn't want to disturb you."

"Ever the proper lady, aren't you, Juliette?"

"Adrien told me about your rank as a new Master Assassin into the Brotherhood, I just want to say how happy I am for you!"

I smiled and walked right up to her to give her a hug as my thanks for her congratulation for me. I guess it's time for her to be an Assassin as well? Who knows—she just might have some potential that I cannot see yet. And in a matter of few weeks—well, days now actually—she'll be turning seventeen. How time flies. Maybe she doesn't want to talk about this yet—about the Assassin matters, perhaps it will come to her at some time, I'll let time do its natural work.

"Well, Celestine, it's very late tonight. I think it's best if you get some rest too." Juliette.

"Thank you, cousin. To you as well." I nodded to her.

She hugged me one last time and kissed me on the cheek, she bids goodnight to me and Arno and returns to her bedroom.

"She's quite soft-spoken, isn't she?"

"Well, she was trained to be a prim and proper kind of lady instead of…"

"An Assassin?"

"Yes." I clicked my tongue. "Juliette's right, we should get some sleep."

"Do we really have to?" he started cooing childishly.

"Oh, Arno," I groaned miserably as he begins to be all cuddly and playful, "Enough games for tonight and you're not drunk."

"Well, I'm not drunk in wine, darling." He begins to trap me in his arms.

"Then what?"

"You." He slyly kisses my neck and I gently push him away.

"Not tonight, love. Some other time, please?"

"Can't we celebrate tonight?"

How could I have put up with this man? I have no idea. It's a mystery why I fell in love with him in the first place.

"No, we can't. We shouldn't get carried away with ourselves."

"You don't mean that." He moans as he continues to nibble my neck.

"Arno, please."

"Can't I just sleep right next to you?"

I sighed. "Fine. But nothing stupid, alright?"

"Yes, Celestine."

"Promise me, swear it."

"Yes, I swear and promise you." He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles.

He didn't let go of my hand and we went to my bedroom. He helped me take off my new coat, I unbuttoned my vest and also the first three buttons of my blouse underneath the vest. His fingers gingerly unbuckled the straps of my gauntlets and took off my gloves as well.

I sat on my bed and unbuckled the straps of my greaves and took off my boots and stockings. I was so tired that I stretched my arms and legs and threw myself down on my bed—with my arms open wide and staring at the dark wood ceiling. The next thing I know that Arno is crawling over me on fours.

He's just there face to face with me and staring back. He smiles sweetly and leans forward to kiss my forehead, at that time I already had my eyes closed; I felt his hand secure my neck like I'm some infant and then his other hand scooped me up by the waist so he could position me upright on the bed.

" _Buonanotte, mi cara tesora._ "

I heard him whisper in my ear and felt him squirm on the other side of my bed and tuck me in with my thick satin blankets. And then I felt his arm wrap around my waist and pull me close to him as we sleep together.

* * *

**Arno's POV**

As she sleeps ever so soundly and peacefully in my arms, my nose gets buried into the mess of her dark locks of hair and with every breath, I draw into my nostrils I always get a smell of sweet roses and cherries. I was still awake even though I had my eyes closed, she tosses and turns so she faces me; I look at the entirety of her face and she looks so precious when she's asleep, observing her from her head to her chin, her peachy lips and curved eyelashes were what caught me. I smiled contentedly, thinking of the facts that she's already a Master Assassin and she loves me as much as I love her back, I guess I have nothing to worry about at all in my life then.

It's gotten a little bit quiet from the outside now, I'm sure that the three of them must have retired back to the Sanctuary or maybe went out for some late night adventures. Let them fly. They're grown men already—even Felix—they can handle things themselves.

For tonight, I'll just savor this moment of sleeping right next to her.

The next morning, I squirmed to my right and tried to cuddle Celestine again but when my arm was tapping around the bed I tapped onto something metallic and slightly cold instead, I woke up to find her spot empty and a breakfast tray was placed. The usual routine goes and I'm supposed to find a note weighed underneath the teapot or the food tray and I found it under the pot—because before it was under the saucer.

 _"Eat first before you look for me. I'll be on the roof of the Legacy Room. Je'taime. –C_."

I smiled at her thought of bringing me breakfast whenever I wake up without her at my side, but I should tell her that I much prefer seeing her right next to me the moment I wake up. She served me something new this time and it doesn't look like French cuisine; the tray consisted of a bowl of soup with a medley of vegetables, a saucer with cubed slices of cheese and the main plate was meat that apparently looked like lamb chops.

_Did she make this?_

I took the first bite of the meat and I was still unsure what kind of meat it is because it was so tender, I tried the soup and it had an adequate flavor of saltiness and the natural flavor of the vegetables; in the middle of eating the meat and sipping a spoonful of soup, I poked my fork into one cube of cheese and the moment I put it in my mouth it melted in my mouth and stuck to my palate, giving me a creamy feel of it on my upper palate.

_Did she really make this?! It's so delicious! One thing I can tell that it's not French cuisine for sure!_

I finished all three courses and then drank my tea, which happened to be chamomile. I eagerly put on my vest and coat, get out of her bedroom and then went to the library to climb to the narrow second floor that has a passage to the attic maze that leads to the Legacy Room.

I sped through the walls of the attic and found my way to the Legacy Room.

"Celestine?"

Since the morning was quiet, I heard something stepping on the roof of the Legacy Room and my initial guess was her but I headed out into the light before she could even hang upside down like a child to surprise me.

When I got out of the Legacy Room, I found her sitting on the narrow rim of the roof,

"There you are." I cooed and she giggles in reply.

I positioned my hands in a manner that looked like I was about to catch her and she got the idea so she carefully pushed herself from the rim and landed into my arms. Before I could even put her down, I kissed her on the cheek and then put her down on her feet.

"Darling, next time, let me wake up with you by my side, please?" I said.

"Alright,  _tesoro._ " She smiles. "Did you like the food I made for you?"

"So it was really you."

"Of course, it's Italian cuisine—they were quite surprised to have me in the kitchen."

"So what was the meat? And what kind of cheese was that? What do you call that soup with vegetables?"

She chuckles as she lets me finish, "The meat was lamb, we call it  _abbacchio alla romana_ —it's grilled lamb chops _._  The soup was  _minestrone_ and the cheese was  _taleggio._ Those were some of my favorite food when I was still in Italy and my mother usually serves them at home; when I grew, she taught me how to make them."

"Oh…"

"Did you like them?"

"Yes! I suppose I should make some for you in return,  _tesora._ "

"No need, darling."

"I insist, Celestine, please."

"Oh well, I guess I don't have a choice." She chuckles.

"You really did surprise me there."

"Really?"

"Yes."

She wrapped her arms around my neck and pushed herself closer to me so that she can give me her tender kiss.

_All of a sudden, she felt like as if she was a wife to me but not yet—I haven't presented a ring to her yet, but I really want to marry her. I hope she took what I said last night—about giving her a ring when I gave her the necklace._

Her hand went to her neck to take out the necklace to show it to me. Since our robes had a layer of clothes—starting with the blouse or shirt, the vest, the coat and then the hood—it was understandable that she kept her necklace underneath the collar of her blouse, away from the eyes of thieving peasants and materialistic, envious women and courtesans.

"It really is beautiful,  _mi caro._ "

"I'm so glad you like it."

"I don't like it—I love it." She smiles adorably.

"Do you want to come with me to one of the safehouses?"

She nods and then we went out of the mansion by standing on the rim of the balcony and hopped to the top of the wall on the eastern yard and we were finally out of the Café Theatre's walls.

"So, which safehouse, Arno?"

"The one in Feydeau, come on!"

We sped across the wooden bridge and then scaled the first building we saw the moment we got to the Cité. At that point, we get better vantage and navigation so we rushed on the rooftops with ease. We came to a point wherein we split up, ending up on a different roof but still, we went out as long as I know that she's near me.

I jumped across the gap that ends me up on the opposite building and I caught a glimpse of her gracefully leaping across and parkouring over a stack of wood on the next roof—I even heard her laugh when she landed successfully from her leap and her jump over the wood stack.

She loves the thrill of it, obviously.

We later rejoined when we scaled onto a house's rooftop, we stopped at the end of the rooftop to scan the horizon.

"So," she panted, "Where is it?"

I looked at her and told her, "Collect your breath first. I need to take a breather, myself."

She chuckles despite her lacking enough breath to exert an effortless laugh.

"You alright now?"

"Yes. So, point the way now."

"We go forward and after a few more roads, we're close to the safehouse."

"You take the lead." She nods the northerly direction and I darted away and at that split second I felt her following me—she's just right behind me.

This feeling I get when I know that—even without looking over my shoulder to check—she's just right behind me, the sound of her footsteps, the heaving sounds of the breaths that she draws and the sound of her body thudding and landing successfully from a jump; that was enough for me to know that she was right by my side.

Descending from the roof we're standing on, we blended with the crowd as there were extremists patrolling around as well. I suddenly felt her hand grasp on my bicep and after that, she was no longer at my side now until I heard the grunts of pain from the trio of extremists who received the edge of Celestine's blades.

For us Assassins, we don't need reasons to kill extremists—we think of them as rats that need to be exterminated as quickly as possible. Their harassment to civilians is enough a reason.

I stopped in my tracks to watch her loot the three dead extremists and pockets whatever she's picked up from them and then she scaled an open window, I had no choice but to follow her as I perch on the window sill.

"What are you doing, Celestine?"

"What? It's a chest, it's worth opening." She blurts out as she smiles and lockpicks the padlock.

I watched how precise she unlocked the latches.  _One… two… three. There were three latches. I watched how she maneuvers her wrist and fingers and still keep the needle in place. This lady never ceases to amaze me._

She lifts the lid without a face of greed—just sheer child-like curiosity—and she takes the contents of the chest and sits down.

_Wait, what is she doing?_

"So these are just coins." She blurts.

"What were you expecting—treasure?"

"Perhaps. But since they're just livres…"

She fiddled with the coins in her hands and quietly counted them but I can read her lips mouthing out the number she's already in.

"It's 5000. We'll half it up." She smiled and then she counted again to divide it.

"Celestine, what are you doing, exactly?"

She hands over my share of the loot but I wasn't taking it, I'm still standing there staring at her.

"I don't hoard the treasure when I'm with a fellow Assassin. Where's the fun in that?" she replies. "Now go on, take it."

She shakes the bag once, urging me to take it and I did. It would be rude if I decline her offer—she did half up the sum of the money she found in that chest. Is it really her nature to do this?

"Now come, that safehouse isn't going to wait forever." She gestures a nod to the window and flew off.

The moment I got out of the window, she was already swinging from pole to pole until she lands and balanced on a flower box hanging by a window and managed to climb up as she got to the next box.

I followed her lead and when I got to the edge, I felt her tight grip around my arm and pulled me up with all of her efforts—well, she is a little petite—and it caused her to stumble the moment I got to the rooftop with her.

"Hey, you alright?"

"Yeah," she manages a light chuckle, "I'm alright. Come on!"

She dashes and then I quickly pick myself up back to my toes to catch up with her. We're close anyway. We stop from time to time, scanning and navigating the horizon to see if we're near or still far but then with her keen eye she taps on my shoulder and points out that one green roof in the business annex.

"There's our mark, dearest Celestine."

"I think it's better if we get down now."

"Good idea."

We walked the streets as casually as we could and so far, we haven't reached our destination but as much as possible, we tried to stay incognito.

"Celestine, try not to suddenly attack the extremists. Enough bloodshed for the moment."

"I know—I had it in mind. I'm saving my energy for the mission of the social club."

"Good girl."

She giggles, "I'm not a child anymore for you to say that to me, Arno."

I smirk underneath my hood and peered under to see her smiling as well, she purses her lips in to wet them with tongue and it looked like her playful smile did not vanish as she relaxed the muscles around her mouth.

A few more turns and shortcuts through small pathways of houses and compounds—and startling some citizens as well—we got closer.

"Are we close?" Celestine.

"Yes, come."

We nonchalantly entered the café—at the ground floor of the safehouse—and we were given reassurance that it was still safe because it was swarming with Assassins which is a good thing. We went upstairs and greeted a Brother lounging in one of the rooms.

"So, where do you keep the mission logs?"

I took her hand and then went to the other room—in every social club, there are only two main rooms upstairs and we're not complaining about that because it's a low-maintenance task—I showed her the room where the center table was filled with letters and even had that big hardbound tome where the Assassins take note of the mission itself, who was the target to be killed and who took the mission.

Right next to the closed tome was a mission log, Celestine took it to read and I walked right up behind her overlooking the context of the mission.

"It says that there's Templar activity going on in Ventre de Paris, says it's being facilitated by an unnamed leader. Hmm, that sounds interesting."

"You're game for that?"

"Don't underestimate me! Come on, let's go take it." She eagerly insists.

"Alright."

She searched for a quill and inkwell, when she did she wrote our names on the mission log and then weighed it under the tome.

"Surely someone would see this." She winks and then looks for an open window to fly away.

She scaled up to the roof and I followed, she was crouching when I got to her and she was obviously scanning the horizon.

"Ventre de Paris, huh? Well, let's go then." She urges and we both sped across rooftops to get to the next district.

_But wait… this has never occurred before._

_She wasn't even intrigued by the vagueness of what the paper said. The Templar activity is being run by someone the other Assassins couldn't identify? It was unnamed as it was stated, but who could it be?_

_I guess the only way to find it out is to get there in Ventre de Paris._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITALIAN:
> 
> Buonanotte – Good night
> 
> Mi cara/caro – my dear
> 
> Tesoro – darling
> 
> Abbacchio alla romana – grilled baby lamb chops
> 
> Taleggio – rich, creamy cow cheese
> 
> Minestrone – classic Italian vegetable soup
> 
>  
> 
> The last 3 Italian words aren't technically words but dishes, but since they originate from Italy and have no direct translation other than what meat and vegetable it has and what kind of food it is, I figured to just encode both the Italian name of the dish and its brief description in English.


	25. An Old Flame

As the two Assassins sped across the rooftops and the streets of Feydeau while trying to get to Ventre de Paris, inside Arno's mind he was still uncertain of this whole mission. Perhaps Celestine got a little too excited and a little reckless as well in accepting the task; he contemplated whether she thought of this carefully even in just seconds away from writing down their names on the sheet of paper or her excitement got the best of her.

Whatever the reason, all they had to do is complete the task because there is no turning back now.

 _Perhaps she was really serious about this._  Thought Arno.

He glanced at Celestine—even though she wasn't looking—and saw that the relaxed smile has vanished from her face, all that he sees right now were stern and fierce eyes and her mouth was kept straight and her teeth clenched closed whenever they go over or under obstacles.

They were close to the district of Ventre de Paris and as the broad daylight became shadier and less warm, it gave the two young Assassins the ominous vibe but that did not hinder them in continuing through their chosen task.

"Celestine, where exactly in Ventre de Paris?" Arno asks.

"A cemetery—a big one. It must be in the catacombs." Celestine answers firmly.

They stopped running and stalked through the busy streets of the districts but as they head for the said cemetery, the road had fewer crowds in them and strangely enough, the populace of citizens were replaced by small groups of extremists swarming the streets.

"Arno," Celestine muttered under her hood.

"Yes?"

"I have a bad feeling about this."

"I know."

Celestine's lips curved up in a smug way, "Then we must be getting close."

 _That's typical of her._  Arno thought.

With every step they take, they heard voices—murmurs and whispers—making its way to their ears which made the ambiance more and more suspicious.

"Have the Templars struck enough terror in this part of the city to make the citizens less welcoming?" Celestine spoke in her sarcastic tone.

"It appears to be that way." Arno chuckles.

"You know, it would be so much fun if there were extremists to kill."

"Speak of the devil, Celestine."

Arno slightly nods at the direction were a line of extremists—most of them were lancers and snipers—creating a blockade between the street where the two Assassins stand and the way to the cemetery. Without another word, the two of them drew out their swords and pistols and began the bloodshed. Bombs were thrown, bullets were shot, throats were slit and the vicious growls of aggressive extremists were silenced by the two Master Assassins. They collected their breaths after their skirmish and pocketed new supplies from the corpses.

"Let's go." Celestine urges.

They were close to the cemetery but they were cautious, only an idiot would waltz into the cemetery knowing that there are extremists patrolling the cemetery grounds. They pressed themselves against the walls of the outside part of the cemetery and they peeked behind the wall.

* * *

**Celestine's POV**

_Five patrols. Three of them are staying in their places. Two are roaming around particularly in the farthest part of the cemetery but they'll walk to the most populated part._

"Arno," I called and as he turned to me, I gestured a nod pointing to the building right next to the cemetery and then he begins to scale it.

Of course, if there's an extremist or Templar nest, it would never be complete without a bird's eye—and by bird's eye, I mean snipers stationed on rooftops or balconies around the perimeter, it's common sense now for every Assassin.

Arno took out the first sniper we saw and then I continued on with the second, alternately we took down the snipers by running towards them—taking them by surprise—and finishing them with the Hidden Blade. It's wise to save up the ammo when using the Phantom Blade—especially the Berserk Blades—so when the snipers were taken care of, we got a vantage point where we see all of the guards both stationary and on patrol and devised the strategy of making one or two of them berserk so that they will all come to the aid of the victim.

"Since they are many, we do this strategy—you hit two of them with a Berserk and once they've all gathered, I'll throw the poison bomb."

"Classic Celestine and her fool-proof strategies."

"I knew you'd say that, darling. Well, better make a good shot." I winked.

Arno loads his Phantom Blade's runway with a Berserk Dart while I readied the poison bomb, I watched him extend his arm and aim for a particular guard—since he has already upgraded his Phantom Blade to blast two blades in succession, I heard two clicks from the armament and two guards gagging at they were hit on the back and leg; before we could even be seen because the blades came from above, it's obvious that the guards will look up I already threw the poison bomb the moment they were all around the radius of the toxic fog. Since the protruding blade is noticeable and obvious, Arno and I backed away from the openness of the vantage point and hid on the peak of the roof of the chapel. I hid behind the left-hand steeple of the church and the thick venomous fog hissing from its globe-like case was visible—the guards were choking and gagging, clutching their throats as they struggle for clean air while the snipers around the melee guards were confused with what's happening.

The weaker ones fell as their lungs got filled with the toxic smoke, while the others were at near-death as they still stagger but they are helpless nonetheless; as Arno and I stood at the edge of the roof in order to eject ourselves to a descend and execute a double air assassination. I calculated the attack, and most likely the survivor sniper would have shot us—if he's smart and reflexive enough to pick our speed but I know the extremists are the lesser species dwelling in Paris—but I got ahead of him as I shot two of them in succession since my Phantom Blade is just as upgraded as Arno's.

There was the second patrol but they might call out extra attention if we linger too long so I threw a smoke bomb at them and Arno managed to even compliment me, "That's a nice throw you got there."

" _Grazie, mi caro._ " I played along and while the smoke was still hissing out of the ball the two of us didn't waste a second, we rammed towards the dazed group of extremists and assassinated as much as we can while the smoke was still on.

I enjoyed every single moment I have when it comes to killing. The dirty blood splattering to the dirt where it belongs is just as relieving as saving the citizens from these inbred mongrels. When we finished the last of them—in that area in particular—we looted the last group we killed because there is no time to pocket out their all of their trinkets and money, it is also uncertain if the cult underground will return from the surface or stay safe and secure in their cold sanctuary.

We vanished from the surface as we stalked downstairs very quietly, merely relying on the echoes bouncing on the walls in order to detect any sound other from our breathing. I pressed myself against the crumbling limestone wall as I heard faint footsteps and exasperated grunting, the soles of their feet were scraping off the pebbles and dust on the ground as they pace—yes, they must be pacing as they patrol, of course extremists are generally hired as bodyguards by Templars or cults just like the Baphomet incident.

When I guessed that he must have paced to the far side, I engaged my blade and peeked over to see if there was anywhere I could take cover and thankfully, there was another wall I can press myself against while he walks over to my side like a clueless prey.

"Take the other side of the wall, Arno, it looks like a forked path." I whispered and then he immediately walked to the next point.

Just as I was about to transfer to the next wall, I saw that the patroller was a brute yet his gigantic axe was strapped across his back while he holds a lantern at half of his arm span's length; I suddenly heard the echo of a rock clatter to the ground where Arno is and that caught his attention, without any second to be wasted I directly darted toward the brute with my bladed hand stretched out to stuff my glove into his mouth and at the same time my Hidden Blade into the fleshy underside of his jaw, his only reaction was to drop his lantern and it clattered loudly on the dust—in my mind, I knew that everyone in this portion of the catacombs must have heard that and that one or two of them will come here to check if anything has happened to their friend. Sad to say, he's already dying and I waited and waited until his body gave up and spurted out so much blood; while that was happening, I was anticipating for more of them. He gurgled as blood erupted from the narrow slits between his mouth and my hand, and also from his nostrils; he painted my gray gloves with splats of dark red as I waited for him to completely die.

As his eyes fluttered, I gently let him fall down to the ground as I relaxed my arm that was clutched onto his vest and then a thin wisp of sand blew up and then vanished, I can hear another one coming but the sound came from Arno's side and I heard the sound of a blade being plunged into the flesh of the incoming enemy; so that must be the brute's company before we even came in here the first time. The fire inside the lantern didn't die out even after the brute I killed dropped it hard to the ground and maybe keeping it on will make the others think that he's still alive but a long period of silence would be suspicious—best not to keep the others alive though, we need to fight our way through the Templar nest.

We both looted them because I spotted the brute to have an unused supply of bombs, it seems that he hasn't used them since nobody has dared to intrude their hiding spot until we came into the tunnels.

_I suppose they are more deceiving than a nest of vipers and cobras piled all together. The vipers would be the extremists and the cobras would be the Templars—either elite or middle-class, it doesn't matter, they're all the same anyway._

The catacombs is really a labyrinth underneath the feet of Paris and we really have to go through networks of sewage and tunnels to get to where we want to go but since this must be a less complex lining, I suppose Arno and I could manage this one but I think the end of this maze where the Templars are hiding is no easy game but we have to be prepared—it's in our training.

So the maze was really just limestone bricks and skulls as the whole structure, no connected sewage pipelines or whatsoever, just pure limestone. We continued on, dispatched the ones who paced with utter patience and technique; there were instances that we got ourselves involved with skirmishes but we quickly finished them because we had no time for them.

Going forward, we easily darted out the snipers—I'm impressed that they were alert the moment that they saw us, they thought that they didn't need to call reinforcements because just one shot from their rifles would mean the Assassins' end but their pride betrayed them as Arno and I started blasting Phantom Blades in synchronized speed—there were three of them yet we killed them harmoniously as the latches and runways of our bracers clicked and loaded up.

"Celestine,  _vos gants, ce qui leur est arrivé_?" Arno gestures at my gloves as I pluck out the Phantom Blades that pierced the neck of my target.

"Oh, that brute I killed earlier, he spouted out a lot of blood and I had to keep him quiet."

"That's a lot of blood there.  _Où l'avez-vous frappé_?"

I tilted my head up, showing the underside of my jaw and pointed at the location—which I estimated—where I brought my blade in, " _Qui. Questo è dove l'ho preso_."

"Impressive,  _mi cara._ " He smirks, my favorite one too.

" _Avanti, amore, il semble comme un long chemin devant._ "

" _Va bene._ "

It really was an awful way up ahead for us, every turn had an extremist stationed yet it was easy taking them out in different methods but of course, silence and stealth were our allies, we strongly relied on them. However, Arno relied on his brute strength while I relied on my agility; but if we teamed up against a small swarm, we were undefeated which dragged us closer and closer to the Templar nest.

"You'll never get to the Master!" one extremist from our latest skirmish yelled out, I didn't realize that he was alive—I was certain I mortally wounded him at the kidney area, maybe his remaining moments to give us some information was a part of his fate.

We were stopped by his statement and therefore, he called my attention—I walked up to him as he wriggled like a worm on a fishing hook prepared to be thrown to the far distance of the deep water—I leaned down, grabbed his collar and pulled him closer to me in case his dying breath was too weak for me to hear him speak clearly.

"Master? How many "masters" do you inbred idiots have?" I hissed.

"More… More than you or your Assassin friends!" he coughed weakly, "The Master… far much better than the last one!"

_Last one? What does he mean?!_

"What do you mean by the "last one"?! Speak up!" I demanded, he's close to dying too, I need to know before he's good to rot in these dusty walls!

"Celestine, he's dead."

" _Cazzo!_  He said something that might be of help, Arno."

"Since he's no good, there's only one way to find out, isn't there?"

"I know.  _Venire!_ "

I don't know why but that stirred up my curiosity so much. Who was that dying enemy talking about? Who's the new master? Arno once told me that he killed the Templar Grandmaster named Germain, he did that in one of the other parts of the catacombs—the area where there was an altar and it was surrounded by pillars—he also told me that when he returned to the catacombs again with his team, Germain was nothing but a skeleton with tattered, rat-bitten clothes. Arno made sure he was dead, Templars do not resurrect…

But who is the master?

Somehow, I feel knots in my stomach, I did say that I had a bad feeling about the entire mission but I was being a little naïve back then but now… this time, I'm serious, I really feel like something is not right—no, not at all. But why?

I'm so eager to go forward that I could just finish off the remaining patrols and go on without looting them. I lost my breath after running and lunging onto enemies as I stab them in the throat for an instant kill, I panted heavily and leaned against the brick wall for support as my body was gradually fluctuating because of my sprinting.

"Darling, are you alright?" Arno worriedly asks me as he used himself as my support and grabbed my arm to keep me standing.

"Yes… Yes, I'm alright." I muttered.

"Are you sure?"

I mumbled my reply, recollected myself and stretched my legs and my back.

"Celestine, what's gotten into you?"

"Nothing. I'm fine, Arno, trust me."

* * *

**Arno's POV**

Ever since she heard that dying extremist's last threat to us, I noticed that it caught her attention so much that she really walked back toward him, grab his collar and hiss questions at him. As he was close to meeting his demise, she was beginning to vigorously shake him while she demands more answers as she interrogates him but even in his dying breath he managed to give her riddles. That's something impressive for someone who is close to death after being fatally stabbed by an Assassin's Hidden Blade plunged deep into his kidney and possibly other adjacent organs.

Just as he exhaled his last string of air, Celestine was still demanding answers, shaking him more harshly than the time when he was still half-alive.

"Celestine, he's dead." I told her and she cursed.

She turned to me and then opened up her fist, stretching out her slender candle-like fingers as the body slumped to the ground; she stood up and dusted her gloves that had bloodstain patches on it earlier but now it's caked into a very dark maroon hue.

"Since he's no good, there's only one way to find out, isn't there?"

"I know.  _Venire!_ "

We ran, took sharp turns that caused us to scrape the soles of our boots to make the blind curve and as for Celestine, she looked like as if that dead extremist triggered her drive to pursue that mysterious new master he was talking about. The stupid thing about that is that he gave it away to a violent she-Assassin, I learned that the easy way without getting a cut on my face from her blade.

It can't be Germain, it just can't be. I know for sure that he is dead. I myself killed him with my own blade and I watched him die slowly and agonizingly only to make things even for Elise that time. But who is this new one?

What's more intriguing is that the other Assassins did not manage to collect any sort of intel about this new master yet they made a mission log for it. Could it be that they were expecting us to take it—especially Celestine since she is usually the one who is adventurously game for any thrilling mission? Perhaps. Personally, I am sure that she has realized that herself but I suppose she is more interested in knowing this new Grandmaster in the flesh.

There is only one way to find out.

We just might be surprised.

As we go through the tunnels, she slowly lost her pace and her speed, she stopped for a short break yet her breathing was labored and heavy—her body looked like it was seeking support until her shoulder met the limestone wall but I caught her with my arm and took hold of her arm to keep her up on her feet.

"Nothing. I'm fine, Arno, trust me."

_She sounded like she was insisting it._

_She's not alright, I can tell yet she persisted._

She darted through again and this time she looked like she forced herself to speed away from me but there are instances where I noticed that she's slowing down, takes momentary breathers and then resume in running really fast. She really thinks that the sands of time were against her and that this whole mission is urgent.

That's strange before she took the missions lightly and that she easily dispatched the enemies as she executed the plan she had facilitated but…

She's a little reckless, isn't she?

Why is she so eager?

More turns came into our way and more clusters of extremists greeted us—well, perhaps for her they were obstacles instead of enemies and she swiftly finished them and judging her actions and tactics, they were too fast and her forms were too plain. I know that this is no competition of peacocks but still…

"Celestine, slow down, will you?!" I cried.

The soles of her boots scraped the sand and produced limestone dust under her feet, she panted heavily and she caught herself against a wall.

" _Mon Dieu, mon cher,_  what is with the rush?" I told her as I stood right in front of her.

"Are you having a fever, Arno? This is thrilling—a new Templar Grandmaster! Finally, we have something to tell the Mentors and maybe they'll tell us what to do in order to kill him or her." She enthusiastically said despite her exhaustion.

"Celestine,"

"What?"

"Can you just try to ease down?"

She sighed, relaxing and finally collecting herself of her calmness. "I'm sorry."

I took her in my arms and kissed her forehead, "The Templar doesn't even know we are after him and maybe we'll give him the element of surprise,  _capito?_ "

" _Va bene,_ Arno."

"Good."

A few minutes to give her a breather since she's the one who has been pushing herself to the limit of her lungs in the first place, we finally decided to slowly and steadily stalk the tunnels in case there were any enemies around.

What I noticed is that as we got deeper into the catacombs, the more guards there were stationed—now, I know I have been to several missions  _myself_  wherein I encounter a certain area that is swarming with guards and that my strategies were bombs and Berserk Blades but this one is preposterous!

"How many do you think are there, Arno?" Celestine mutters, somehow a tone of worry is stuck in her voice.

I parted my lips slowly, tries to muster up a number for a guess and I slightly shook my head, "I'm not really sure, perhaps a dozen of them?"

Then we heard a few of the voices of the men stationed there, "Oy, I'll just be on my way there, see if the brute is back from his piss."

"Hey, I'm comin' with you. I have a bad feeling that Assassins are in here too." One of them said to the first one.

The first one chortled at his scared companion, "Don't be such a little boy! But in case there are Assassins, one swing of my ax will be enough of a relief for ye!"

"Brace yourself, I think two of them are coming this way," Celestine whispered as she withdrew herself from the edge to conceal herself against the wall.

When we guessed that they were already halfway from us, we engaged our blades and we readied ourselves for the two of them although it's fun that they were clueless and then I recalled what the coward said. Little did they know that we're here—they haven't even noticed that none of their comrades have ever bothered to stroll to this area of the catacombs.

_Wow, they really are numbskulls._

Before they could even turn their heads to us and scream an alarm, we covered their mouths so that they won't say a word and then thrust a blade into their faces; Celestine got the coward while I got the fat brute who held a lantern but before my victim would drop his lamp, I dragged him close to the ground already so that he'll just softly thud down on the dust and therefore saving our skins from the suspicious clattering of a rusty lantern which would call the attention of the other extremists.

"What about the other lot of them, Celestine?"

"I'll drug one of them with a Berserk Blade, once they all clumped together to fight the deranged one you throw a poison bomb. We'll repeat the same thing if many of them have survived the poison."

There was a crate before the doorway and when Celestine hid herself there, her kitten-like curiosity got the best of her and she peeked under the canopy that was covering the top of the box and found used rifles and revolvers—she put her hand into the box and scooped a handful of new bullets from the supply and then pocketed them as she loaded the others into her gun.

"Here, you're going to need these, no doubt." She tossed me some consecutively and I caught them all before the extremists could even see us.

"Celestine, one of them is close to us now."

"Alright,  _pronto_?"

" _Pronto._ "

I hid against the wall before the passage to where the swarm was and then she extended her arm and with a single flick of her wrist, the Berserk Blade flew out of the barrel and then pierced the lancer at the shoulder to which he jerked as a reaction to the sudden pain that was injected to him; we braced ourselves in our temporary hiding places and then watched the lancer go wild against his comrades.

"Celestine, there's too many of them, we need a second one," I advised her and without any kind of objection, she immediately released another Berserk Blade from her armament and hit a brute out of sheer luck.

We watched the carnage occur from short-lived peeks from our hiding places and we would quickly withdraw from the open and conceal ourselves again.

"Now, Arno!" she managed to say that command in a quiet scream.

I already had one poison bomb at the ready before she even shot out the first Berserk Blade, I threw the bomb at the clustering skirmish and then watched the green fog hiss and spray at the extremists. They were choking, coughing and gagging—the weak ones died easily just by pure suffocation of the toxic smoke while the others vomited out almost half of their entrails from the mouths and blobs of thick and dark blood spewing out their noses, at the corner of my eye I saw Celestine giggle.  _Does she really enjoy the sight of extremists choking on our poison bombs? I didn't knew she found that entertaining but I suppose that's her but I'm not complaining at all._

The second deranged enemy was still alive and then the clamor transferred to him when we made sure that  _all_  of them were surrounding him that is when I threw the second one without waiting for Celestine's command. Patiently, we waited, watched and listened until the sound of swords, threatening curses, and battle cries died down.

"Do you think that's all of them dead?" Celestine.

"One way to find out." I shrugged and waited for her to come out from her hiding place.

Walking side by side, we greeted ourselves by the sight of the slaughter that we manipulated. For a moment there, I felt like we were puppet masters controlling and commanding the extremists against their will yet these were mindless and clueless puppets who had no idea that their demises were just at our hands as they drew their swords at each other and ended up stabbing each other.

"Hold on, Arno, I'm growing short on supply here—I'll just loot some of them."

"You're not going to pocket all of them?"

"No time,  _amore._  I feel like my instincts are telling me that the Templar Grandmaster is expecting us."

"That is a little spooky. Why do you think your instinct made you think that?"

"I can't explain it properly but… I feel it—in my core. Is that enough of an understandable explanation?"

"I suppose."

"Come on," She pocketed a smoke bomb from the lancer and a batch of bullets from the body next to him, "We need to see him."

_Why are you like this, Celestine?_

She and I went straight ahead and surprisingly, there were no more bodyguards.  _Strange._  Yet we continued to walk, there's no turning back and there is no stopping just here, we have to go forward.

Silently, we prowled the next area and the glow of candlelight revealed us a shadow of a man and it looked like he was praying.

"Father of Understanding… My master, he who have gone to reconcile with the Father after his mortal's end, I pray thou guide me like how the Father has guided you in your life." He chanted in front of a stone altar covered in white linen, stained with hardened candlewax and decorated with candles both new and used.

We wordlessly entered his private shrine, he had his back turned at us as he was solemnly praying at the altar with no saint or any other entity that personifies his superior leader—just sticks of burning candles.

His cloak was exactly what a Templar Grandmaster would wear, uncannily the design almost looked like Germain's clothes but I shook off that thought. Celestine and I just stood there behind him at a distance, I silently handed her the Sword of Eden and she didn't speak or ask me anything she just took it as it is—just the way I want her to do.

She fixed her grip firmly on the golden hilt, the patterns and designs etched on the blade and golden shell gleamed against the candlelight of the chandelier above in the middle of the shrine as she angled it. Before she could even make the first step, the cloaked figure stopped saying his prayer and made the sign that the Templars do after they do their prayers and he slightly angled his head to the right side; and no, she wasn't being reckless, she was not even going to charge, she was going to walk towards the mysterious master and try to interrogate him with the sword and I know that she will not shed blood at the first moment.

"That is an interesting weapon you have there, milady." The man spoke, he sounded like he was our age but that did not matter.

Celestine did not respond, she just kept the tip of the blade at the middle of his shoulder blades. He slowly raised his hands so as to surrender and his hands slowly went to the hem of his hood, as he grabbed it he gently put his cowl down to reveal his dark hair that he kept short and then he glanced sideways again but his facial features were obscured against the candlelight of his altar—he brought his hands back up in its surrendering manner. He slowly turns around, step by step, to show his face and I heard Celestine gasp and she almost dropped the sword the moment the new master showed his face for the first time to us.

Celestine's expression changed and she lost her firm grip on the sword but she still held it in her hand, her chest heaved as the Grandmaster grinned.

"It's been so long, Celestine." the young Grandmaster nonchalantly said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRENCH:
> 
> vos gants, ce qui leur est arrivé? – Your gloves, what happened to them?
> 
> Où l'avez-vous frappé? – Where did you hit him?
> 
> Mon Dieu – My God
> 
> Mon cher – my dear
> 
> ITALIAN:
> 
> Qui. Questo è dove l'ho preso. – Here. This is where I hit him.
> 
> Avanti – forward
> 
> Amore – darling/love
> 
> il semble comme un long chemin devant. – It seems like a long way up ahead.
> 
> Cazzo – fuck
> 
> Venire – Come
> 
> Pronto? – Ready?


	26. The New Templar Grandmaster

**Celestine's POV**

Arno handed me the Sword of Eden silently (while he took the exchange with my own sword) as the Grandmaster still had his back turned to us, I silently tightened my grip on the golden hilt and walked towards him—when I stepped towards him, I raised the sword and pointed it to the part between his shoulder blades, he raised his hand to surrender but I wouldn't think so and took down his hood.

When he turned around, I felt like I lost it…

"It's been so long, Celestine."

_No, it can't be!_

_It's him!_

A lot of memories suddenly rushed through my mind as I finally saw the face of the new Templar Grandmaster.

Standing right before me in the glow of the candlelight was the man responsible for my parents' deaths. Just by seeing his face, I felt my grip on the golden sword lose the tightness and my knees started to melt, my heart raced and my vision got blurry and in my mind I was reliving that dreadful day—exactly everything that happened.

* * *

Xavier Maximus, a young man almost at the same age as the two Assassins, is the newly-appointed Templar Grandmaster after the demise of his mentor Francois-Thomas St. Germain. He had black short hair, golden brown eyes and a stubble yet he had a vertical scratch on it—almost as if he could pass off as Germain's son as well.

The young man is trained the same expertise like that of Germain—blacksmithing in his earlier days and then his apprenticeship by following the ways of a Templar when Germain was appointed Grandmaster of the Templar Order—however, this young apprentice had a different mindset from Germain for Xavier was a merciless killer to which that the Grandmaster found to be an advantage once the boy becomes of age to claim his master's place in the Order.

Germain lectured that Xavier's ruthless killing tactics was a good way to have people persuaded to follow whatever the Templars want—but deep inside Germain, that tactic was just a plan to use the boy as a tool to their domination over the city yet young Xavier comprehended that his role in being a tool was something crucial in the Order's plans and this he accepted. His bloodlust was unquenchable, he continued ravaging the city by using extremists as his pawns—which is exactly what a Templar Grandmaster would do to conceal himself from the eyes of the public.

He is also the man behind the murder of Celestine's parents.

When one of the intel for the Templars reported an Assassin killing an elite Templar who was one of Germain's supervisors and at the same time Xavier's substitute mentor, it sparked the young apprentice's anger and immediately requested for a squadron. He demanded the intel to the drop the name of that Assassin—ever so boldly, the intel stated the name Absolon Sauveterre and as Xavier asked for the whereabouts of Absolon, the reporter dropped every detail there is to know.

Without hesitation, he demanded his requested squadron to report immediately double time and under his strict order, he led a group of extremists—the finest of the patrol yet—to head to the address that was given by the courier to kill Absolon to avenge his second mentor.

Little did Absolon knew that his hours were running out, he had no idea that his last moments would be having a warm and hearty supper with his wife and daughter near their hearth; by that time, the enemy was already closing in their front door.

* * *

**Celestine's POV**

_Eight years ago…_

_That dreadful night…_

The evening was pitch black and the only source of light were from weak torches and lamps. Yet I did not feel fear, I felt secure ad warm instead as the three of us were safe within the four walls of our humble homestead.

My mother was in the kitchen cooking our supper while Father and I were still playing swords against each other as a part of my last-minute before we eat, we were fencing outside in the back of the house. In truth, I insisted  _mi padre_  to train me while we're waiting for Mother to call us for dinner even when he told me that he has taught me everything that he knows about sword fighting but I really wanted to fence some more and at the same time hone my reflexes. I even had a few instances where I accidentally drop my sword when I countered Father but I managed to correct those with several retries.

"You really are going well with the sword, my dear." Father.

"All thanks to you,  _padre_!" I cheered.

"Anything for you, Celestine. You are going to fare a good _Assassina._ "

" _Grazie, padre!_ "

Now I know that my father is French but Mother taught him Italian when they were still young lovers. It sort of reminded me of Alessio but I shook off the thought, I don't need to teach him Italian words anyway since he hails from Italy—and he knew French as well because his mother homeschooled him to learn the language.

We saw Mother standing by the door, wiping her hands with a clean white rag and gesturing us to come inside now. The three of us happily went back inside the house arm to arm, sat down at the table and then prayed for grace on our meals.

We all took the first bite and then the three of us shared and enjoyed dinner altogether, just like how we always do every day. We enjoyed Mama's special broth of pork and vegetables, her tenderized lamb and my favorite curdled cheese—I love how it melts in my mouth once I pop it in and Mother knows how to make them perfectly just the way I like it, I even requested her to teach me how to make it so that I can do it on my own and treat them with my own cooking.

But that warm and happy moment suddenly turned dark when we heard the pounding footsteps of extremists closing in on our peaceful home. My parents instantly knew what was going on while I had no idea what was going on at all—I was being overcome by my hunger that I didn't realize what was happening at that moment.

Our happy mood…  _slowly fading_.

Their smiles and laughter vanished and replaced by a face of terror, their cheeks flushed out of color, their fingers trembling and sweat trickling from their necks and temples.

"Mother, Father, what's wrong?" I mumbled right after taking a gulp of water.

They looked at each other with those worrying eyes and then they turned to me, then Father abruptly told Mother, "Get Celestine safe in the back, bring a sword for her."

Without saying a word, obediently nodding, Mother dropped everything and pulled me up from my seat and brought a sword along from the weapons rack. Her grip was tight on my wrist and it was slightly hurting me but I didn't mind it anymore because the growing tension was the problem here.

Just after she grabbed a sword and forced the hilt into my hand—which I grabbed anyway—she hurriedly dragged me away from the dining table.

"Hurry, Celestine!"

"Mother, what's happening?!" my fear grew as I got pulled away farther from my father.

She didn't answer me, she just took hold of my hand firmly that I felt like she was a human shackle and she finally let go of me when she knelt down on the ground, her fingers clawed off the wooden floorboards to reveal a compartment within the floor—they showed me this before but they told me that they would only use it when things get drastic and that is today.

"Get in, child, get in."

She gently guided me as I dropped myself into the hollow pit, I looked up to her—finding her weary and sweating—I thought she was going in with me until I thought wrong when she leaned to the side and grab the floorboards that she detached to bring me in here. That twinkle of hope of company from my mother dimmed as I saw her holding the cover above me, before she could conceal me, I saw her face crumpling and her eyes welling up with tears as she slowly brings down the plank to cover me. From where I am, I can hear the intruders pounding on the door—what's Father doing?!

"Celestine, listen to me—whatever happens,  _do not make a single sound._ "

"Why?!" I could feel my tears welling up already.

"Just please, do not make a sound. Stay quiet. Your father and I will be back. _Prometto._ "

"Let me fight with you!" I persisted.

"You cannot! Just stay put!" she cried out and then when she got calmer, " _Mi piccina, te amo._ "

_Prometto…_

_Mi piccina, te amo._

That is what she said.

My poor hopeful heart clung to those words that my mother released from her mouth. As I was concealed within a cellar that was just under the planks of the floor, I waited but I listened as well. I eavesdropped from down under as I heard too many voices yet I could still recognize my parents' own voices but there were men—the ones who barged in—and one of them sounded demanding.

I listened quietly, I wanted to wail but I was choking on my own tears as I covered my mouth with both hands and continued to eavesdrop.

"The great Master Assassin, Absolon Sauveterre," the intruder who ought to be the leader of the faction theatrically dictated.

"What do you want? Who are you?" my father bellowed, his baritone sounded like a roar of a lion across the house.

"My apologies,  _monsieur_ , I am Xavier Maximus—apprentice of Master Francois-Thomas St. Germain. As for my intentions in coming to your homestead, I want your life—in exchange for my substitute mentor that you recently killed. And perhaps even your wife would be an equal to the balance of the slaughter, no?"

_Mother?!_

"You're so young to be a leader of a faction of brutes, but yet you are just like them! Templars!  _Bastardi!_  All of you!" Mother shouted as I heard her drawing out a sword.

I heard another draw of a sword, I guessed it came from the intruder named Xavier, "Kill the both of them!" he ordered.

I heard heavy footsteps that it felt like a herd of wild horses were stamping on the floor, dust rustled and fell on me with every thud on the floorboards—I couldn't cry yet I sobbed as I heard the battle up there. The sound of swords clashing against one another, thuds that fell on the floor several times and the piercing sound of the sword plunging itself to meet its targeted flesh.

I still heard my parents, they were alive—I know it.

"Good, you two fight like the Assassins that you really are given that you killed all my brutes… but that was just a warm-up." Xavier hissed.

I wanted to fight, I really did and with that sword that Mama brought in with me when she dropped me into the cellar I took hold of it and thought whether I should come out against their instructions or just stay here like what they told me.

_I really don't know what to do._

I heard the three of them battle in that room of the house—the same room where I am concealed within the floors—and with one strong thud that seemed like one of them threw the other in the air and landed here, it caused the floorboard to break and make an open slit big enough for me to peek at and watch them fight. I watched so I could calculate my timing on when I should ambush the enemy and strike—but a part of me strongly tells me to stay here.

Xavier fatally wounded my mother, slashing his sword across her arm and bringing her down to the floor—I yelped but only faintly and took hold of my sword, readying myself for the right time.

_But there was no right time._

By then, Father was the only one who is able-bodied to continue fighting but I couldn't risk it anymore, I pushed open the broken floorboard that concealed me and I sprung out to aid my parents.

"Celestine?!" my Father shouted in surprise.

"I can't let you lose, Father! Don't tell me to hide!" I told him as I countered Xavier's attack supposedly for Father.

"Ahh, so you have a daughter." Xavier coolly said as he pierced Father at the shoulder and turned his sword to me.

"Father!"

"Hush, he's still alive…  _for now_. Let me see how good of a mentor your father is."

And so I shouldered the fight that my parents fought against this man. I single-handedly clashed swords with him as my parents, weary and wounded crawled to the other side as they watch me fight an enemy for the first time.

I have to be honest, in all my years of training with my father, this is the first time that I have seen such remarkable swordsmanship. He was swift and elusive, he can evade my attacks and he can equal to my striking strength even though I am already using all of my might to fight him. With every clash, he flashes that insulting smirk in his face somehow implying that he's a better swordsman than I.

He had cut me on my upper arm ever so slightly as I evaded the strike, therefore ripping the fabric of my sleeve and cutting the skin of my arm. I didn't bother with my wound, I continued to lunge at him and yet he blocked it. I knew I was forgetting something—I was forgetting the discipline and self-control that my Father had taught me throughout our sessions together.

 _No matter how intense the battle is, always control yourself. You'll lose to the enemy if you let your anger ravage you and blind you, thus losing your focus._  That's what Father told me one time during our swordfight lesson.

"Huh, is this what your own father taught you? Unbelievable." He taunts me as we kept our swords clashed together and our faces were just inches apart with such tension.

He pulled me away and struck me with the hilt of his sword.  _I did not see this coming—I didn't really see this entire scenario coming. And here I thought, I was just going to have warm dinner with my parents and then go to sleep just like always but… no, I think what I had in mind will just stay in mind._

When he hit me, my vision was blurry that I couldn't clearly see but I could still identify Xavier since he's the only one standing. I sprawled to my parents' side and held their hands to search for signs of life and they're still alive as I picked out a pulse from both Mother and Father.

There was no time for any kind of encouragement talk, I adjusted my eyesight and it became clear again, I pulled myself up and then tried to strike at Xavier but he smoothly evaded and then grabbed my neck and harshly wrung it.

"Heh, you're no Assassin—you are just a child playing with a sword."

My heart was racing as his grip around my neck tightened bit by bit, I realized that I had my bracer on and as I flicked my wrist to draw out the blade, I swung my free arm to his face and created a gash across his face. A red vertical line began to bleed from the edge of his lip down to his chin and he finally let go of me as he jerked at the pain.

"You little bitch!" he roared as he hit me across my face and grabbed me by the collar.

"Go ahead, kill me if you so wish! Call yourself a man once you're done!" I threatened him and spat at him with blood.

He flinched at my spit and he wiped it roughly with his sleeve, "I'd rather not ruin that pretty face, hence," he lets go of me and hovered his blade over my parents, he produced an identical sword and then killed both of them off right in front of me.

"NO!" I shouted—that was the only thing that I could do.

My parents looked at me for the last time with their dying eyes, their eyes fluttering as they quickly lost themselves and Xavier pulled out his swords covered with blood…  _my parents' blood!_

"Fight me when you've learned how to really wield a sword. That bracer is nothing but a tool of cowardice." He points my armament with his sword and then left.

I wept and wept as I crawled to my parents' corpses, hopelessly and helplessly searching for a pulse on their necks and wrists but there was nothing. I can't find a single pulse. Yet I still hoped that they could make it.

"Celestine…" Father muttered with all the remaining effort that he has.

"Father?"

In his clenched fist that he opened, he revealed a silver pin that resembled a sword with a ring encircling the hilt portion. He gave me a lead to Xavier Maximus and I promised the both of them that I'd avenge them.

After that, he's gone into hiding…

Until today…

* * *

"So, have you redeemed yourself of your swordsmanship, my dear? Let me remind you, I spared you because you were a lesser fighter that was no match for my caliber. And now... How many years has it been? Seven? Eight? Ahh, I remember. That was eight years ago when I killed your parents right in front of you. Remember? Do you remember?!"

"I never forget." Celestine sternly answered despite Xavier's theatrical and sarcastically enthusiastic tone.

"Ahh, good girl. Now, shall we see if you are up to it?"

"I'd never back down, Xavier."

"I see that you bore the same robes as your parents. See to it that you do not dishonor them and their death."

Xavier drew out both swords—the same twin swords that he used to kill Celestine's parents—and Celestine prepared herself with a battle with the murderer of her parents. Even though she knows that Xavier's agility and swiftness in wielding his swords are unwavering, she has to cope with it and adapt to his styles in order to maneuver herself to perform a swift and smooth attack just so she could at least scathe him.

Without waiting for an order or a cry for help, Arno stepped into the duel between the Assassin and the Templar Master and aided Celestine in fighting Xavier but even though with the two of them fighting together just  _one_  man—it's vaguely remarkable that Xavier is able to keep up two enemies at once but not because he wields twin swords, it is because he is trained by Germain and yet this young apprentice-turned-Master had a vicious bloodlust therefore resolving it with the hold of the blade thus using it as a skill and an advantage in the reality of fighting.

_This young man has something in him that makes him like this—much like how Germain is sly with his tricks when he had possession of the Sword of Eden._

Celestine kept herself focused on Xavier—his hand and body movements, his formations, everything—and as much as she can she evaded his attacks. Beads of sweat budded out of her pores as she fights in one of the candlelit dead-end pockets of the catacombs underneath the soil of Paris against the new Templar Grandmaster of the Order. She knows to herself that it'll be a hard battle, she knows to herself that it wouldn't be so easy battling him—she now knows the struggle that her parents went through against this peerless swordsman on that night eight years ago in their now-ruined homestead.

As she fights, memories flashed in her mind starting from the moment she was concealed underneath the planks of the floor as a young girl with just as a sword acting as a companion to the image when her parents were stabbed deep into their hearts by the same pair of blades that she is clashing the Sword of Eden with. She didn't let her emotions get the best of her, she just continued fighting but she noticed one thing from the very start.

_He's barely even attacking me—all of his moves are part of the defensive, he's trying to tire me out so that once I'm really tired that will be the time that he'll go for the killing strike._

_Does he really think I haven't figured that out yet?_

Xavier, Celestine and Arno pulled away from each other across the room, the three sword-wielders taking the occasional break after that endless collision of blades. Then the young man suddenly laughed almost maniacally,

"Well, well, well! It seems that someone has been taking practice sessions! I have not struck you anywhere!" Xavier shouted and he continued to speak as the two Assassins did not respond, "My dear Celestine, you really have grown and improved! Look at you! Though you are lovelier than the last time I saw you, since you were still such a very young child back then—a defenseless one too without the hold of a swordsman, or swordswoman for your matter—and now, even without the aid of your man, I suppose you can still fight me!"

"He's insane." Arno.

"I know." Celestine.

But before the Assassins could lunge at him, Celestine squinted her eyes as she noticed something shining from the collar of Xavier's dress shirt—it was a pendant that looks exactly like the same pendant that Absolon apparently snatched from Xavier when he threw him hard on the floor that night and gave it to Celestine at his last breath. Celestine has kept that pendant in her dress shirt's pocket so it won't be easily snatched by anybody since the pocket is located somewhere on her left breast. She has never shown it to anybody—not even to Arno, it was her deep dark secret and at the same time her personal vendetta.

"Oh yes, by the way, I presume your father must have  _taken_  something from me on the night I killed them."

"You mean this?!" Celestine fished for the Templar pin harshly from her blouse's pocket and threw it snappily to the ground that it scraped off the dust as it slid to Xavier's feet.

Xavier looked at the silver pin with a ruby placed on the intersection of the hilt and the blade resting on the sand at his feet and then looked up at Celestine.

"This was my lead to kill you. Yes, my father must have taken it from you when he grabbed you by the neck and threw you to the floor across the room on that night—and he gave it to me before his breath left him!" Celestine.

"A drive to kill—I love it." Xavier responds as he bends down to pick it up.

Arno was surprised to see the Templar pin—much like what Elise had since she was a Templar and the same pin that Germain crafted—he assumed that Xavier crafted his own pin to the liking of his Master's; he was also surprised to discover that Celestine had been hiding something like that in her pocket the whole time but he is not a narrow-minded man, after all, he had already heard the answer to his question and Celestine provided it with good reason.

He focused himself again on the enemy, Celestine was the first to lunge as she attempted to strike him while Xavier stares at his pin proudly like the very moment he has finished crafting it and conceived it out of the burner.

"Oh Celestine, it's adorable to see you trying so hard to surpass me. You really are determined to avenge your parents, no?"

"I'll save the world from your insane tyranny as well!"

"Oh, now's not the time to be hugely ambitious, dear."

"Enough of your theatre act and fight! Or are you too weak to fight a woman?!"

Xavier tauntingly laughed, "Still the feisty one, I see."

They continued to fight but when Xavier became more offensive with his attacks, it was the moment that Celestine has been waiting for—and thankfully, she still wasn't drained out of her energy after all that defensive action. This is where she began to use her Hidden Blade as an extra limb and a secondary weapon. When she finds spots open for the strike, she would jab her armament on Xavier's open point and therefore finally scathe him. She struck him on the torso but yet he still kept going—she doesn't know if he was ignoring the pain or pushing himself to his limit as he slowly bleeds himself dry just to continue this fight.

 _I'm bleeding…! But I can't show them that I'm weak!_  Xavier thought to himself as he continued to slash through Celestine and Arno.

Little by little, it's noticeable that he's losing his grace and stance in wielding his twin swords but he still kept going but he lost the grace and now he looks reckless with his forms.

 _Enough!_  Xavier roared in his mind and threw something to the ground.

The moment it snapped, thick smoke—thicker than the Assassins' type of smoke bomb—came out from a small shell that Xavier threw to the ground to distract the two and escape. Arno and Celestine backed away from the smoke while they cover their noses and mouths with their sleeves as they coughed. While the two were teary-eyed and coughing for breath from the harmless yet thick fog, Xavier managed to escape in order to tend his wounds.

 _Coward. You've always been one when you killed my parents—you killed them when they were dying, not when they were still able-bodied to fight you._  Celestine hissed at the thought despite her eyes getting all puffy from the effect of the smoke.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITALIAN:
> 
> Mi piccina – My little one
> 
> Prometto – I promise
> 
> Te amo – I love you
> 
> Mi padre – My father
> 
> Bastardi – Bastards


	27. Awakened Vengeance

As the smoke was still emitting out of the shell, Xavier managed to get away from the Assassins as he tightly clutched onto his wound and escaped in the process, whilst Arno and Celestine were coughing and their eyes getting all teary as the smoke closes in on them. Arno managed to pull Celestine away from the fog and he brought the two of them out of that dead-end pocket heading to the same doorway from where they first came in.

It took a while for the smoke to finally clear out, Arno and Celestine have finally breathed in and out some cleaner air than inhaling smoke from a bomb. As Arno turned to Celestine to check on her, he noticed that she was clutching at her chest and is still coughing but not as hard as earlier, her eyes were becoming a bit bloodshot and emitting tears.

"Celestine!?" Arno exclaimed in panic.

"I'm alright…!" she huffed harshly, "I'm fine." She finally gasped.

"Settle down for a second, alright? You don't look so good—I'm serious."

"I know… I know. Xavier's smoke bomb is very different from our types—it's the elite kind of smoke bombs, ones that could really be a good distraction element." She gasped.

When the smoke was gradually thinning out, the two Assassins were observing where the fog is escaping as it slowly disperses; Celestine steps in again but stays away from the fog and looked around the dead-end pocket of the catacombs—searching for an opening where the smoke and also Xavier could have possibly got out from—she looked around frantically, almost losing her focus; she looks around until she followed the traces of the smoke escaping to the ceiling where an opened secret hatch is irresponsibly left open by a certain Templar Grandmaster.

Celestine waited for the smoke to finally disperse and once it has, she leaped to the altar—toppling off the candles—and then scaled her way out of the dead end and out into the open with Arno tagging along behind her.

When the both of them have finally crawled out of the underground, they found out that the hatch was a crypt in disguise. She regained her composure and found Xavier frantically mounting on a black thoroughbred, the horse jerked and stepped back as reaction to what the rider was doing and without heeding Arno's call, Celestine immediately ran towards the stallion to chase off Xavier—she didn't want to harm the animal but there was no other option to dismantle her enemy from his steed, she wanted him alive anyway and she couldn't calculate where the Phantom Blade would land once she fires it.

But before Celestine could be within reach of Xavier on horseback, he had already snapped the reins and urged the horse to go forward, therefore, speeding away from the she-Assassin; Celestine was indeed a fast and agile runner, but she knew to herself that she can't compete for her speed against an eight-hundred pound thoroughbred although she pushed herself as she was driven with her vengeance and rage against Xavier Maximus.

She attempted to fire the last loaded Phantom Blade in her bracer but Xavier dodged it—the projectile was aimed at his spine, she planned to paralyze him and she needed him alive to surrender him to the Brotherhood—but tough luck, the man dodged it as he spurred his horse ahead, taking distance from his mortal enemy bit by bit.

Celestine growled to herself and looked at her now-empty bracer, she clenches her fist as Arno caught up with her. She felt herself kneel tiredly to the ground, ignoring the citizens around them and going about.

"Celestine?"

"I almost had him…" she hissed.

Arno couldn't say anything, he just watched her pant and gasp for air.

"Come on…" he coos as he scoops her up to get her back on her feet.

"I need to find a merchant."

"Why?"

"I'm all out of Phantom Blades."

" _Va bene._  There is one somewhere on the right turn of this annex."

"Good."

Arno noticed Celestine's gradual loss of her stamina, there were times that she would fall behind him and catch up by clutching his shoulder for support.

"Come on now, Celestine." Arno picks her up and carries her like a backpack.

"What are you doing?"

"You're tired—don't deny it."

She had no say anyway, indeed she was really tired and she rested her head on his broad shoulder, then Arno continued on with their way to the annex where the merchant is stationed—the annex was another marketplace but smaller than the other ones in the districts but as long as there is a merchant, there is no problem for them.

During the hike, Celestine slowly fell asleep as Arno carried her, not minding the citizens looking at them and grumbling something under their breaths. Miserable people, they were. That's a fact that can never be hidden with any kind of denial at all—not from anybody.

"Are we there yet?" Celestine groaned.

"Almost."

"Put me down now."

"I know you're still tired, Celestine."

"It's fine—I can manage with walking, Arno. I insist." She pleads.

He sighed as a reply and then gently bent down so that her feet were just at least three inches away from the ground, she was still a little wobbly but Arno was there to support her as he lends her his shoulder as she swerves.

"Too much running, I suppose," Celestine said so herself.

"You don't say?"

Both shared a lighthearted chuckle and continued walking, they were close to the curb where they expect a merchant to be standing by next to a vendor's canopy selling whatever goods they have.

"There it is." Arno gestures a nod to a middle-aged man standing next to his table of goods, displayed to the people passing by.

They approached the merchant and he opens his arms as a welcoming gesture to the Assassins. Celestine looked around and assessed what were the supplies she was getting short on—she refilled her supplies of Phantom Blades, of course, and a pocketful of bullets, also a fresh batch of poison gas bombs. She even bought extra stun grenades and a few cherry bombs whilst Arno replenished his pack of Berserk Blades, all types of bombs and his bullets as well.

"Pleasure doing business with you,  _madame_ ,  _monsieur_." The merchant says customarily.

Celestine gave a slow gratifying bow as she softly responds, " _Di rien._ "

Then they navigated the fastest route to get back to the Café Theatre by foot and so they scaled the very first building that they saw, as soon as they got to the rooftop they scanned the horizon to calculate and estimate the distance of their waypoint from their vantage point.

"Celestine, I know what you're thinking." Arno forewarns before Celestine could even make her pre-running stance.

"What?"

"Don't even think of having a race with me."

"Why not?"

"Surely, it's impossible for you to regain full composure and vigor after all that fatigue you went through. Don't even pretend—I can tell. Not even the Mentors could push themselves to a limit like that unless they really want to kill themselves."

Celestine rolled her eyes coyly and then sat down on an old stack of crates, her façade changed from that light-spirit to heavy-hearted.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing…" she muttered.

Arno knelt down right in front of her, cupped her cheeks and lifted her face so that they could see each other eye-to-eye.

" _Dis-moi_."

She sighs before she tells her answer, "I've been thinking,"

"Yes?"

"When you saw that Templar pin coming out of my pocket earlier, were you thinking of surrendering me before the Council and then brand me a traitor—because I never told you about it? I never told you about my personal vendetta and the object that signifies my lead to the murderer of my parents who happens to be the new Templar Grandmaster—are you going to frame me, brand me a traitor, have me incarcerated and probably expelled from my place in the Brotherhood?"

That deep thought of Celestine made Arno's heart skip a beat nervously and then feel heavy. She looked at him with those eyes of hoping that she would hear the negative answer that she's anticipating from him but then Arno stood his ground, as well as his morals and ethics.

"No, I would never brand you a traitor. Celestine, it's your personal vendetta—so I respect that privacy of yours."

"But the Council had no idea of this at all. They never knew I have the possession of an item that symbolizes the Templar Order—should they spot me and accuse me instantly without my say of reason, I would instantly be branded as a traitor or a spy."

Arno was silent.

"I knew that if I tell them about this, they would set this aside—presuming that this is just some kind of unimportant personal vendetta—so I thought that I should just push this through with just by myself. I didn't want my parents' deaths to be in vain, I know that they expect me to avenge them in their death and so I had only one option—one and only one option."

"Celestine…"

"So if you're biased and narrow-minded, it's best that you bring them my head."

Arno's lips parted with her last statement and he slumped to a slouched seating, he took her hands and squeezed them tightly—reassuring her that he would never turn her in when in truth she had no fault. Her father only gave her the pin as a lead, nothing else more.

She really thought it was best to keep it secret. And so she did. She was only guilty that she hadn't told Arno this sooner because they just met that time and she didn't know how to put it down to him gently.

Celestine was silent and so was Arno. He scooted closer to her and kissed her forehead.

"I will never turn you in." Arno cooed.

She didn't reply.

"In fact, you did nothing wrong at all. You have no violation or charge." He added.

She embraced him, her arms wrapping around his square shoulders and him circling his arms around her waist, pulling her away from the crate she's sitting on and pressing her close to him. As she buries her face in his shoulder, he could feel her sobbing and her fingers clutching tightly on his coat.

"Oh, Celestine… There, there." He consoles.

"We have to get him!" she sobs.

"Celestine, your body is almost collapsing. You need to rest."

"But I have to get him!" she insisted, she almost sounded like a child throwing a tantrum.

"Listen to me, you need to rest. It's almost sunset too."

She sobbed as her grip loosened on Arno's coat, he smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead long and hard. When the sun was already setting slowly, Celestine had calmed down and watched the sun sink into the farthest horizon while Arno looked at her lovingly and played with her long brownish-black locks pouring out of her hood and hanging in front of her shoulders.

Celestine had been thinking while she watched the sunset, she knew she needed to report this to the Council. It was almost as shocking why the Mentors had no idea of the new Templar Grandmaster—perhaps they must have thought that the Order died with Germain but they were very wrong and Celestine was there to testify to that.

She only hoped that they wouldn't have their irrelevant biases tonight once she does comes before them. She was even thinking if there were other Assassins spying—or maybe watching over them—who saw the entire hot pursuit of Xavier Maximus on a black thoroughbred.

The lampposts were beginning to be lit one by one in the streets, the peasants carried their own torches and lanterns while the aristocrats basked in the warm candlelight of their mansions as the open windows spilled out the orange light. The two Assassins have started to get a move on upon returning to their Sanctuary, the bridge was illuminated by heavy black lanterns and they jumped down to the shore of the river from the railings of the bridge; the balls of their feet thudded hard on the soil of the river's shore, they went through the gate that leads them to the hollow corridor before getting to the main hall and with every step they take their footsteps echo across the splendor of the Sanctuary and with every echo that rings across the walls, Celestine's heart nervously beats its way out of her chest.

Arno held her hand for comfort and they walked together. The two of them met with the Mentors in the court and it seemed like the three high-ranking officers were expecting the couple.

"We understand that you have something to tell us, Celestine." Trenet directly addressed the young Assassin.

"Yes but first, let me ask you this question: How long have you known that there was a new Templar Grandmaster?"

The three Mentors were shocked at the question, as if they had no idea at all.

"Where did you get this information?" Quemar demanded even in his cool voice.

Celestine had that sense of pride in her that made her think that they really had no idea, she slightly cocked her head to the side and answered, "I didn't get it—I  _found_  it."

This made the three of them lean to the edge of the banister of their prideful podium, never before did Arno witness the three highest Assassins in position to be so intrigued.

"Who is the Templar Grandmaster?" Beylier.

She thought of her words carefully, she took a moment before the Masters could even demand her to speak up at once.

"It's Germain's young apprentice… and the murderer of my parents: Xavier Maximus."

"The identity of the new Templar Grandmaster remained unknown to us ever since Germain died!" Trenet exclaimed, "How dare you give us this information on such short notice?!"

 _There she goes._  Celestine scoffed in her mind.

This is not the first time she saw Trenet explode into a rage but just at the jump of the female Mentor got Celestine stepping back but keeping her face as emotionless as possible, projecting that Trenet's exclamation is nothing close to intimidation, just surprise.

"We only fished this information from a log sheet from one of the clubhouses in the city." Arno, "Celestine led the way and we both faced combat against the Templar Grandmaster Xavier Maximus." He added.

The three felt silent, Trenet relaxed from the tension of her fingers clutching on the marble banister and she took a deep breath.

"Very well, I suppose you did the right thing in investigating about the Templar Order's new leader. If you so wish, you two may take hold of this as your mission. But remember, this is just not a personal vendetta, think of the tenets that you carry with you as you do your task." Beylier.

Celestine and Arno bowed in response and left the court.

"I'm surprised they're quite generous nowadays." Celestine blurted as they were safe in her bedroom.

"Times have changed, Celestine—they're part of the change." Arno.

She smiled but then she went back to her deep thinking.

"What is it?"

"Juliette," she muttered, "Should I bring her into hiding where she's safe? Call for the next boat for her?"

"Where will you bring her?"

She thought again and recalled their relatives from her father's side.

"Versailles."

"Do you think she'll agree with you?"

"I don't know. With her already at seventeen, I saw how in love she is with Adrien—perhaps her idea of eloping with him isn't a silly joke."

"Are you certain that Xavier knows about your family?"

"I don't know."

Arno stood up from his seat by the desk, walked up to Celestine still leaning against the pole of her bed and played with her wavy locks.

"You need to relax,  _tesora_."

She sighed in reply, he cupped her jawline gently and lovingly kissed her, the same kiss that they always do and yet love.

Celestine's hands crawled up to Arno's arms, she clutched at his sleeves until he felt her pulling him closer. Their kiss got longer, his hands began to slither into her coat as he wringed his arms around her waist and pulled her closer; she tilts her head to the side and she gave him permission to nibble at her neck, he pulled her collar aside to reveal more of her neck as he begins to kiss it, his moans stimulated her as she pulls closer even though there was no space between them already. He begins to unbutton her vest and blouse as she takes off his coat.

"Wait…" she muttered as she stopped his hands from going further to the middle button of her blouse.

"What's wrong?"

"Don't you think this is a bad time to do this?" she says, in a tone that almost sounds like she's so sorry.

Arno calmed down from his stimulation, he took her hands in his own and kissed her knuckles. He embraced her tightly and kissed her forehead.

"Oh, my sweet little Celestine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRENCH:
> 
> Dis-moi – Tell me


	28. Persistence

"Don't go…" she mumbled and this surprised him.

"I swear, I won't."

" _Bene…_ "

She hugged him tighter and she suddenly went limp. She's suffering from severe exhaustion, dehydration, and fatigue ever since they started their mission from the cemetery grounds to the catacombs until they got to Xavier.

She huffed out one last of her remaining vigor and she almost passed out, fortunately, Arno caught her and carefully laid her down on her bed. He removed her greaves, boots and her coat; without malice, he continued to unbutton her vest and blouse so that she won't feel constricted as she sleeps. He also detached her blade and gauntlets from her arms and put them safely on her nightstand. Arno brushed away the thin strands of Celestine's hair from her face as she slowly goes to sleep, he kissed her forehead long and hard, rubbed his thumb against her cheek and sat down on the other side of her sleeping spot, playing with her locks very softly as it plops silently on the pillow once he lets it slide from his fingers.

* * *

**Arno's POV**

There she lies down, sleeping soundly. Even after everything that has happened—that stress, that frustration, and even her own revenge, I suppose one can never overcome something that is so tiresome. She's not fragile—I have seen and proven that myself—she's just very exhausted with everything that has happened.

I suppose she has gotten through a lot. I mean, witnessing your parents being killed right in front of you and apparently leaving you for dead because your enemy thought of you lowly, that's pretty much enough a reason to stake vengeance in your heart.

Celestine is impressive though.

With that amount of revenge—it's so remarkable that it has not corrupted her at all.

For how many years?

_Eight?_

_That's right… Eight years._  She contained that vengeance for eight years until the right time comes—and it did.

That is really impressive. She really has the mind of an Assassin. Not to mention, the body for it too. Don't get me wrong, I have seen how she moves her body in combat and in defense—but of course, I, myself, have seen her skin firsthand but now is not the right time to think of such things.

Her breathing was heavy, as if her body demanded it but still, she looks peaceful. But then it came to my mind about what happened back in the dead-end pocket of the catacombs where we faced Xavier for the first time.

He looked so young. I assume he's bound to be the youngest Grandmaster in all of the Templar Order's history. He almost looks like me and Celestine's age but… how? And why?

Did Germain really take that boy in on purpose? Did he really plot this? Perhaps Germain was half-certain that he will come to an end one day but why take an apprentice? Does he really think that boy, Xavier, can live up and continue whatever legacy he leaves as he dies? If so, then that old man has a way of hiding things—the same way he hid his true identity from me when I first met him in the house in Le Marais.

Let's just see if that little boy is just as cunning as his Master. He was already a dead giveaway when he did that little trick with his own type of smoke bomb. That is both cowardly and cunning.

_Come to think of it…_

_I'm getting pretty tired myself._

* * *

**Celestine's POV**

Upon waking up, I found myself stripped of my robes, my vest was taken off and my blouse had three buttons undone and of course, my greaves and boots were set on the floor. I turned to look at my side and found a sleeping Arno. Well, it seems that he is lousier than me when he must have slept yesterday.

I seem to have slept for the entire day until I reached the next day which is today, hmm?

I must have a lot to take in…

About yesterday though, back in the Brotherhood's Court, how is it that they weren't hard on me this time? I suppose if I would recall it and then analyze it, it seems that I haven't broken a tenet of the Creed. In fact, my blade only touched a portion of Xavier's flesh even when I was supposed to stab him.

And believe me, he is no innocent at all.

I rolled to my side and fixed up the mess lying down right next to me by the name of Arno Victor Dorian. I bit my lip as I smiled and resisted my laugh that is about to burst from my mouth—if I laughed out loud, I would have disturbed the big baby—I took down his hood, fixed the loose locks tickling his face and took off his gauntlets and blade. My finger gently caressed the lining of his stubble and his lips were tempting me in the most facile manner. I pressed my mouth gently against his warm lips, long and hard as my hand cradled his fine jawline.

When I pulled away, he was still asleep— _good_ —I carefully got out of bed to go to the kitchen and have some tea prepared for the two of us. I didn't even bother putting on my vest again, my blouse is just fine I just needed to straighten it up so I won't look like I wasn't being put to bed and made love with him. As I got out of my bedroom and quietly closed the door so that he won't be disturb, I bumped into the maid who regularly does her housekeeping duties in my bedroom when I was at the top of the stairs and told her not to attend to the room for now since Arno is asleep.

"Celestine?" a soft and pallid voice echoed across the second floor hall.

I was already in the ninth step of the stairs when I looked up past the banisters and saw Juliette.

 _Ahh, Juliette. Look at how much you've grown—although you have Uncle's eyes you're still very beautiful._  A young girl at the age of seventeen, how time flies.

"Juliette? Something wrong?" I casually spoke as I managed a smile.

"It's just that…"

I retracted my smile and then went back upstairs to her. "What?"

"I heard what happened yesterday," she mumbled nervously, "Is it true?"

I didn't reply.

"Is it true that you met with the man who killed your parents?"

"Yes, that is true. Where did you get that information?"

At first, she hesitated in answering even though I already have a guess and it's apparently a correct one.

"Well, it's… from Adrien."

"Juliette, if you truly love Adrien you shouldn't be so hesitant in mentioning him—let alone in saying his name. Just by saying it with conviction, everyone else, including him, could see how much he means to you."

_It's just so precious to have someone who is proud to show you to the world that you belong to them as they to you._

_I have never thought of it, though. Is Arno proud of me not because of my status but for my entirety?_

"Well now, I have to go to the kitchen to get some breakfast prepared." I patted her shoulder and then continued on downstairs.

I greeted the intendant who was staring out in the window out in the front of his office and checking the time in his bronze pocketwatch. He turned to me as I greeted him even though I just address him as " _monsieur_ ", temporarily exiting from his daydream to greet me back to which I appreciate.

I strolled my way across the café, seeing the maids ready the tables and chairs while the waiters and bartenders are beginning to fix the drinks and wipe the glasses clean after a fresh rinse.

" _Bonjour!_ " I greeted them all and they greeted back in unison.

For some reason, this is a good feeling after getting myself into such trouble with Xavier.

_Xavier…_

I rushed to the kitchen and then boiled a pot of tea for me and Arno. While it was still heating up, I readied the tray, the cups and saucers and maybe even some cinnamon-sprinkled bread. When the teapot whistled and turned down the fire, I also managed to sneak out a single apple for myself while I bring the tray all the way back to the bedroom.

Luckily there was a chair where I could put down the tray for the moment as I open the bedroom door and as I got inside, Arno was already awake and sitting up rubbing his temples with his fingers reaching both ends.

" _Buongiorno, tesoro._  How was your sleep?" I greeted him and setting the tray down on my desk.

"I think my wake was better than my sleep, all thanks to a sweet kiss minutes before I woke up."

I smiled and scoffed, "Cunning. As you always were, Arno." I chuckled.

He chuckled back and I walked up to the bed to sit down right next to him.

"Well, how are you, Celestine?"

"I'm doing fine if I could say so myself."

"Really now?"

" _Prometto,_ " I assured him.

"How about I serve you the tea this time so that you don't have to work yourself out."

Before I could even object to that, he already got out of bed and walked up to the tray and poured tea into both cups. He placed two cinnamon bread onto one saucer and we shared the lovingly hearty meal—just like ordinary days.

_If I kill Xavier, will it always be like this? No more worries? At least not a major problem because we can deal with the pests like the extremists but…_

_It sure does feel different. Knowing that Xavier is here planning out his tyranny in Paris—he's probably hiding underground like the disgusting rodent that he is—I suppose everything is unusual and eventually… the unusual will become usual._

Personally, I wouldn't want that. I want to save Arno. The Brotherhood. Juliette. My Brothers Octavien, Felix, and Siegfried.

I want to save Paris from a deranged apprentice-turned-grandmaster.

After our breakfast, I brought the tray back down to the kitchen until I was hindered by the elderly maid who tended my wound on my back.

"Oh, oh! Child, let me have that, I insist. Better not be tiring yourself after yesterday."

I was surprised at the last thing she said, "You know about that too?"

"Everyone heard—you pursued your parents' murderer and then reported to the Council. That must be very tiring for you to catch him."

_How much do these people know?_

She took hold of the tray, bowed and smiled at me as she dismisses herself from me and made her way to the kitchen to have the dishes and cups washed. I stood there at the foot of the stairs, leaning on the marble and gold-adorned pole of the banister as I try to assess myself how much intrigue the news about me has spread across from the Brotherhood to the Café Theatre. Does that mean the safehouses know about it too? Well, of course, given that Arno and I originally got the mission to purge the Templar nest in the catacombs came from a log in one of the clubhouses—the other houses are bound to know as well. Assassins are good intel and good hiders of secrets as well but I suppose the word of mouth cannot be avoided by prying ears and eyes. I'm just hoping that some of those prying ears and eyes don't belong to a Templar or any of their affiliations or else we are going to have a difficult time in resolving the situation.

Then I wonder: does Xavier have a right-hand man? Most Templar Grandmasters do not but is he a new mix?

I guess I have to answer my questions myself.

From my right, I heard chattering men and just by their voices I could already tell who they are.

"Celestine?"

"Felix, brothers… good to see you all." I greeted calmly, contrasting to Felix's impression.

"How are you doing?" Siegfried.

"I'm alright despite the news spreading like wildfire."

They start to bombard me with comments and questions that I don't know who to answer first and next until…

"Alright, alright, boys—the girl just got up from her rest, don't you think it's too soon for you to corner her with such controversies?"

I turned around and found Arno making his way downstairs. His coat tidied up and his shirt all neatly tucked and buttoned, he must have fixed himself while I was here.

"Any other news though?" Arno.

"The Mentors have sent out more of our brothers to scout out Xavier's whereabouts and also his affiliations." Octavien.

"It is likely that Xavier prefers to hide underground like a sewer rat," I added.

"So he's somewhere in the catacombs?" Felix.

"Yes, but he's bound to have a mansion—one that looks like any other nobleman's mansion," I replied.

"Celestine," Arno.

"Yes?"

"Do you think that Xavier inherited Germain's mansion as well?"

I blinked and allotted my attention to Arno, pressing him to continue his theory.

"When I first confronted Germain, he was still in the guise of a mere blacksmith, I infiltrated the mansion in Marais myself. I thought that the place was his… Do you think he would have handed it down to the boy as his last will?"

"That could be a fact but we still have to learn more about it."

We were all silent and then I realized, "Perhaps we should bring this matter to somewhere more private, I suppose."

The five of us went to the secret underground study hall for Assassins under the floors of the mansion, we passed through the theatre foyer, through the kitchen and then to the secret passage. As we got down silently so that we will not attract any unwanted attention from the customers of the café, I immediately went to one of the shelves to find the map of Paris. I took out two scrolls—one of which is the mapped out network of the catacombs under the feet of Paris and the other is a mere map of the surface of the city.

As I set down both maps on the large table and my brothers were kind enough to set down rocks as paperweights on the corners to keep the maps from scrolling back, I thanked them and then went on with my proposal.

"Alright, men. Across all of Paris, cemeteries are the primary entrances to the catacombs—be it open tombstones, mausoleums and even manholes that lead to the sewer maze—these are most likely Xavier's hiding spot, the underground labyrinth itself." I began.

"Won't that give him away, Celestine? I mean, if we have figured out already that he is bound to hide in the catacombs, how would we know where he is then?" Felix.

"That's a good question, Felix. Although I would like to add that Xavier still has a mansion handed down to him according to the will of his dead master, he's bound to lodge there as well." Arno.

"You two are both right but… if we are going to go back to the catacombs again, where is Xavier hiding?" Siegfried.

"The Templars tend to hide in wide pockets of the maze. Only a few gain access to the heart of it." Octavien.

"You don't mean the center of the catacombs itself?" I confirmed.

I noticed Arno has gotten quiet, "Arno, is there something wrong?"

"The heart of the catacombs… that is where I dueled and killed Germain."

"From what I heard, starting from the heart of the maze—its doorways lead to the other adjacent networks that split and spreads farther—and also the interior of the maze has an altar and an oculus on the ceiling."

"That's correct, Celestine." Octavien, "Where did you learn that?"

"I spent my time here reviewing scrolls and maps, I came across a blueprint of the catacomb's heart one time."

"Clever," Arno smirked.

"How are we going to approach this?" Felix.

"There are scouts being sent out by the Masters, correct? If we ask them to share their information, which they are most likely going to do, we can split up and dig up some more information as to where Xavier is. Know which place he is frequently hiding—either the catacombs or his mansion in Marais? Know the people who are under his influence—the captain or general of the National Guard or the main leader of the extremists?"

They continued to listen.

"We wait for the scouts and then fish them out of what they know. See if Xavier spawns out of his sewer hole and fights like a man. Also, we could ask help from Bonaparte if worse comes to worst." I smiled at the idea of Napoleon audaciously firing cannons on the street as a battlefield or at least a desolate meadow in the countryside where the camp of the National Guard's platoon is stationed.

I adjourned the meeting because the entire plot sounds half-baked without the information from the assigned Assassins. We were beginning to fix up the scrolls and putting them back on the shelves, in the corner of my eye I saw Octavien walking up to Arno.

"I have to say, Arno, she is quite a woman you have."

"I heard that," I said.

We all shared a hearty laugh and continued to clean up our mess, our brothers left first while I sat on the table and stretching my back after a hectic plot planning.

Arno walked up to me and held my waist as I stretch up.

"That was pretty impressive,  _amore._ " Arno.

" _Molto grazie, amore._ " I said as I rewarded him with a kiss.

"Don't work too hard on this, though."

"I promise I won't."

"Good girl." He kissed my forehead and held me tight.


	29. The Essence of Paris

**Celestine's POV**

"When do you think our brothers start coming in with the information that we want?" I asked out of the blue even if Arno still has his arms around me.

"Well, perhaps we can check tonight."

"Do you think it's that easy to bait out Xavier? I still haven't figured out what lures him out of his hiding spots." I told him as I slowly pulled away.

"Celestine, what did I just tell you?"

I rolled my eyes and sighed, "Not to stress myself out."

"That's right. Now, we'll just wait until tonight and see if we can get anything useful from our brothers."

I silently agreed as I nodded at him. It was slowly getting stuffy in here or perhaps it was just me feeling a little uneasy—it was a little dark though, with the room relying only on candlelight. Arno took hold of my hand and pulled me away from my perch.

"Come on, I think you need a walk."

"Do I? I'm fine."

"Or maybe do you just want to lounge on the rooftop? Like what we used to do?"

I smiled as I remembered that moment when he and I were on the rooftop, listening to the bells of Notre Dame and then watching the doves fly away with every toll; that feather, I remember, that he caught and I told him to let it go—something I said that was poetic and metaphorical. I looked at him and nodded then he takes my hand and brings the two of us out of the underground study hall and then made our way to the second floor of the mansion to our personal route to the rooftop or the dome.

We acted like excited children rushing and darting our way through the maids, the corridors and scurrying up the stairs to get to our personal hiding spot. From the library, we scurried up that narrow ladder that leads to the claustrophobic second floor of the study hall and then to the small hatch on the wall that leads to the attic—or the maze as I'd like to call it.

Even when we were crouching from our adult sizes to get through that secret hatch in the library, he didn't let me go—although his grip wasn't too tight that it's getting painful but it was firm enough so that my tiny hand won't slip away from his. Stretching back up to our heights, he still didn't let go, we made our way to the left—the path of the fork that leads to the Legacy Room—and then found the sunlight pooling through that doorway that leads to a narrow ledge that is too small to be called a balcony.

I stopped before I could even set foot out from the shade of this small pantheon filled with the robes of the Master Assassins before us.

"Well? What is it, Celestine?"

I caught myself staring at the robes of the Italian Master Assassin, Ezio Auditore da Firenze—back then, I used to hear stories from a mother that he was the great Assassin who purged tyranny away from the great cities especially from his hometown in  _Firenze_  and also the great city of  _Roma._  It was just too bad that I didn't get to meet him—just heard stories about him but that's second best to seeing him in person—for some reason, I find him to be something I look up to next to my own parents, of course; but then, after hearing of his stories back when I was still a child, I wondered how did he live out his life as an Assassin.

His family was murdered, according to what they said in the Brotherhood—so how did he go through all that? My young self asked. After Xavier had killed my mother and father, I now know what it felt like although I don't think he and I went through the same page of coping after the death of your own family.

But then another absurd thing went into my mind…

_Will Arno and I ever have a family?_

_Mon Dieu, what am I thinking?_

Should we ever go to a war against Xavier, will we make it? I know that I have admittedly told him I love him but of course, telling someone that you want to raise a family with them is a whole different thing.

"Celestine, are you alright?"

I snapped myself out back to reality and found Arno squeezing my hand tightly. Mind you, I only have my blouse, breeches and boots on—I didn't bother to take my coat earlier just because we had to make that short yet urgent meeting underground.

"Yes, I'm alright."

I looked down at my hands and found Arno's fingers tenderly gliding across my palms and then shifts to the back of my hand. His thumb ran across the cartilage in my wrist and then slid back up to my palms and his fingers played with the spaces between my own fingers.

"What is it this time, Arno?"

"Nothing," I could have sworn I saw him smile—the kind of smile that wasn't showing any malicious antic but it was tender and sincere, and then he looked up at me again, "Come on."

The two of us went outside and then climbed our way to the topmost dome of the mansion, we perched ourselves on the edge and found an eagle proudly holding its head up high as it watches over the city under its talons. It slightly leaned back so as to huff its chest out and then let out that ear-piercing yet majestic screech that echoed across Paris and then fled off to find another perch where it can watch over more of the hustle and bustle of the city.

Arno nudged his head on my shoulder as I rested my cheek on his head as we watch the river that was dividing us from the town proper, the boats rocked gently as the current pushed and the people—of all classes from the peasantry to the elite—mix together in the streets while Arno and I were just two eagles watching over them.

"I know that kind of silence, Celestine. What's troubling you?"

"I don't suppose you know."

"Well, do tell,  _tesora_." He pulls away from his rest on me and then glues his attention and those dark warm eyes on me.

"If ever Xavier wages a war, do you think we'll make it?"

"I know we will—we Assassins will always get through."

I pursed my lips, swallowed that nervous lump in my throat and I could feel my heart racing violently—making it almost feel like it's ripping its way out of my chest with this anxiety and nervousness I have.

"Celestine, whatever it is you're containing in that mind of yours, I think it's best if you open it up to me—but I respect it if you choose not to."

"I want a family with you…" I mumbled silently, almost not moving my lips.

" _Quoi?_ "

"Nothing… Nothing."

"Very well then." He smiles.

"You don't seem upset."

"Like I said, Celestine, I'll respect your choice whether to open up or not."

_Wow, he's been patient with me._

He takes my hand and kisses it, both of his hands close in on that hand and then radiated the warmth to it. The bells of Notre Dame began to toll in their steady rhythm, the smaller bells complemented with the sound and then the noises of the people mixed up.

 _The essence of Paris._  I thought.

* * *

Later that night, the scouts that have been sent out finally returned to the Brotherhood and Beylier ordered Octavien to spread the word to Celestine and Arno—who have been waiting for the information all day long. They were always in the mansion if not going out in the streets to target a Templar or a spy, then Octavien made his way to the café and entered via the east wing door.

He scurried his way upstairs, skipping a step or two to not waste time, and immediately heard Celestine and Arno's chatter in the Armor Room where they have just finished their short sparring practice while Andre was busy reorganizing the weapons on their respective racks.

"Celestine, Arno…" Octavien huffed.

The two Assassins' chatter and snickering stopped as they turned their attention on a serious note to Octavien; the twinkle in Celestine's eyes showed high anticipation.

"The scouts are back. We need the both of you for the conference."

Quickly, the two of them stood up and then briskly made their way to the foyer. Celestine got ahead of them when they were making their way downstairs, she instantly made a sharp turn to the right that stopped the boys' in their tracks.

"Celestine…?"

"What? You two forgot that there was a quicker passage to the Brotherhood?" Celestine points to the small set of the stairs that leads to the door.

"Oh right…" Octavien mumbled, apparently slightly embarrassed with the short-lived predicament.

"Let's just go." Arno patted Octavien on the shoulder and followed Celestine.

The three of them briskly walked through the rocky cave and then jogged to the main foyer and heard buzzing chatter from upstairs.

"It seems that they are taking the meeting up there." Arno put in.

"So, it's not only the Masters, hmm?" Celestine.

"Apparently, it's the scouts as well, and you two need to hear the reports firsthand." Octavien adds.

"How thoughtful of them." She managed to crack that bluntly.

They sprinted their way upstairs and then met up with the three Mentors along with four more scouts—one of them was Adrien.

"Adrien." Celestine acknowledges him as he returns it with a nod.

"Ahh, Celestine and Arno, we are pleased that you got the memo." Quemar.

"Thank you, Octavien." Guillaume.

Octavien nodded as a sign of welcoming Beylier's thanks and then joined Siegfried and Felix. Apparently, this meeting consisted of the Master Assassins, the Mentors, and the scouts.

"What did you get?" Celestine eagerly began without waiting for a remark from any of the Mentors.

"I think it's best if the scouts answered that." Trenet.

Adrien began, indicating that he was the one who led the scouting party in milking out Xavier, "Well, the first thing we did was fish out the whereabouts of his mansion in Marais."

"That was passed to him by Germain." Siegfried cuts in and is rewarded with a nudge on the arm by Octavien for cutting in on short notice.

"And then what did you find there?" Arno.

"We found a lot of his silversmith mementos such as the silver Templar pin—the man had a lot of them—and then some parchments but sadly they were blank, he must have written some ordeals and then hid them somewhere with him."

"How did you dispatch the guards? Moreover,  _who_  were the guards?" Celestine.

"National Guards."

" _Merde_."

The entire conversation revolved around Celestine and Adrien, the other scouts only managed to put out a few details they fished out themselves without the monitoring of Adrien. Celestine herself was surprised with Adrien's strong aura to be a leader, it was so unexpected of him in a good way. She almost sounded higher than a Mentor as the tone of her voice sounded so demanding and firm but she never raised her voice all the time—maybe on some parts of the conversation where she expresses her curses in Italian.

"Do you think he persuaded Napoleon, Arno?" Celestine.

"No, Bonaparte isn't swayed so easily. He is his own man." Arno.

"Oh good. Then we can get a little help from him then. He  _does_  listen to you."

"For a moment there, you sort of emphasized the word ' _does_ '."

"Why?" Celestine snickered.

"I don't like that look, Celestine."

"Oh come on, it's funny."

And then the two of them shifted back to their serious Assassin selves.

"Now then, aside from his mansion in Marais, where else did you go and find him?" Trenet.

"The catacombs, no doubt. Although the underground maze was a little difficult to trace him." One of Adrien's three scouts answered.

"Meaning, you didn't cover that much ground from the catacombs?" Celestine.

"Well, we retraced where you last fought with Xavier, it was probably just one of the satellite hiding places he has."

"Then I will independently trace the underground sewers to cover more ground—I'll help you and maybe then, we'll have more information."

"Celestine, is he really that dangerous?" Beylier.

"Yes, although I find his tactics very shoddy—for a man." Celestine scoffed.

"Shoddy?" Beylier sounded surprised with that word that the young Assassin used.

"Yes, he used a type of smoke bomb that has a choking property when inhaled—compared to what we have, ours is milder although the smoke is thick," Arno responds to that.

"That is his mode of escaping?" Quemar questioned the Templar's tactics.

"I would say so, Mentor." Celestine.

They returned to the point of the topic wherein they were trying to dig out where Xavier's potential hiding places could be especially on the underground channels. The entire assembly knew that realistically nobody could ever cover more ground of the catacombs even if they brought the entire Brotherhood of Paris with them! Celestine carefully thought about this and strategized until she required a map of Paris and the map of the catacombs—it just so happened that the study hall in the Sanctuary has a copy of the same maps as the ones from the underground study in the mansion.

"Please, give me some time to think."

Celestine knew well that this whole plot isn't shouldered only on her but she felt so stimulated in finding Xavier for vengeance, of course, she doesn't let her pride consume her own well-being, she knows that she cannot do this alone no matter how hard she extracts information, milk out the locations and whereabouts and even finding Xavier himself. She just needed to review her tactics, the plans she had in mind and the possible techniques that they could use against Maximus.

She needs Arno and the Brotherhood's help. Even the Council itself wants to purge the Templar Grandmaster.

"What do you think are his motives?" she addressed the question to everyone in the conference.

She rolled her eyes to the scouts—including Adrien—expecting an answer from them but they just looked at one another.

"Well?"

"I can't say if this is true but I have a thought that he's got plans to take Bonaparte to his side." The second scout said, a tall young man in dark green robes.

"But Bonaparte's steadfast—as Arno said, the man's not easily swayed."

"He wasn't directly addressing to Bonaparte, Celestine." Adrien.

"To whom was he addressing his insistency then?"

"Captain Dumas."

Captain Dumas is part of Napoleon's platoon and a fine soldier. Although it is no surprise that Templars are doing their intercessions through Dumas in order to make their way to persuade Napoleon but in worse case scenarios, apparently an ambush is waiting for Bonaparte.

"If Dumas is headstrong and stubborn, then the last thing that the Templars are most likely going to do is lure Bonaparte out." Celestine hypothesized. "But I wonder, with Maximus in charge, how does their next approach look like?"

The entire place was shrouded in silence and deep thinking. It was broken down as Celestine tapped her fingers on the table, her fingernails were clicking on the table as every second passed and died down in silence without a word uttered from anybody else in the conference.

Celestine clicked her tongue, proposing another approach, "Here's what I think,"

The assemblage urged to listen.

"I repeat, I'll independently trace the catacombs as well in order to aid the scouting party to cover more ground—whosoever wishes to accompany me is most welcome. But what I am milking out here is the information, sure we already took out the information about the of inside Maximus's hand-me-down mansion, but that isn't enough to know where Xavier is hiding and what he's planning, hm? What are his motives? What does he exactly want from Bonaparte? And we know that he is affiliated with us in his own odd way. What else is he going to plan to lay down on the streets so that we will occupy ourselves from looking for him? Skirmishes? Cult activities? The likes. But most importantly, I need to know where he is  _exactly_  hiding.  _Petit bâtard peut même pas mettre en place un combat_."

Celestine ceased talking, she looked up and realized that she was carried away with her plans that she almost forgot that there was an ensemble of the Master Assassins, the Mentors, and the scouts right before her.

" _Oh, je suis désolé à ce sujet. S'il vous plaît pardonnez-moi_."

"It's alright, my dear. We understand. We are quite surprised that you still have that cool head of yours regarding this plot against the Grandmaster." Quemar.

Celestine nodded modestly at the Mentors and then Trenet cut in, "Well, I suppose we still have a lot of work to do. After all, an Assassin's job is never done."

The three Mentors dismissed themselves and retired to their own personal study lounge, leaving the Master Assassins and the scout team in the middle of the way while Celestine was there leaning on the table reviewing her maps and guides.

Arno stepped into the upper part of the study hall where the shelves, tables, and globes are. He walked up to Celestine and held her arms, caressed her tensed shoulders and instructed her to take deep and slow breaths.

"Gentlemen, if you would be so kind, I'd like to have a moment with Celestine alone."

His brothers bowed politely and made their way to the grand two-sided staircase. Arno caressed Celestine's cheeks and she held his hands, she sighed in an indistinct expression.

"Celestine, whatever it is you are thinking, calm down. I know we'll find him,  _amore_."

"You really think so?"

"Yes, I know so." He reassures her with a kiss on the forehead.

She sighs in relief and finally loosens herself from the tension until her vision got blurry—she was uncertain whether the room was just badly-lit or she was really getting nauseous and wobbly. She almost threw and fell to the ground but luckily Arno had caught her, he scooped up her legs and carried her like a bride.

"Come on now, let's go back to the house." Arno cooed lovingly to her.

"I can walk—put me down," she demanded even though her voice was raspy.

"No, I insist that I carry you to your bedroom, young lady."

She grumbled in defeat and stubbornly rested her head on Arno's broad shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRENCH:
> 
> Quoi? – What?
> 
> Merde – shit
> 
> Petit bâtard peut même pas mettre en place un combat – Little bastard can't even put up a fight
> 
> Oh, je suis désolé à ce sujet – Oh dear, I'm sorry about that
> 
> S'il vous plaît pardonnez-moi – Please pardon me.


	30. Night's Warmth

Meanwhile, underneath the catacombs, Xavier was at the very heart of the labyrinth in his main hideout. Coincidentally, it is also the very same place where Arno and Elise had fought with Germain one last time, and where Elise and Germain met their demises; Maximus had his patrol of bodyguards with him but they were patrolling the catacombs since he requested to be left alone.

He clutched onto his flesh wound on where Celestine had stabbed him with her Hidden Blade.

"You are still the amateur, Lady Sauveterre," Maximus growled to himself as sweat trickled down his temples and dripped on the stone's throw of the catacombs that resembled an altar.

His wound was already tended—he did it himself, robustly declining the help that approaches him in treating his wound when he had escaped by smashing open his own type of smoke bomb.

When he had escaped that time and took refuge in his mansion in Marais, he heated the sword of his dagger from the fire of the hearth and attempted to cauterize the wound by sealing it up through heating it up. He bit on a thick rag as he burned his own flesh wound, he jerked and flinched and struggled out muffled cries that his teeth clenched together so hard that it hurt with every minute of pressure he presses against both upper and lower jaw. Then he poured wine on the wound after cauterizing it and applied some rudimentary medicine that happened to by lying around in the house—most likely it was one of Germain's old and left-behind supply, Maximus was so exhausted and weak that he didn't even bother to get fresher ones and made do with the aging ones.

But now, he is healing since he had no choice but to seek medical attention from a doctor instead of relying on himself just by treating the wound with a heated dagger, wine, and a two-year-old medicine supply.

Xavier paces around the hollow shrine in the catacombs where he is hiding and then recalled his skirmish with Celestine and Arno. Then he recalled something quite interesting that he found in Celestine's hold.

"That sword…"

Then he recalled one of his final moments with his Master. Before Arno could even make it to where he first confronted Germain—with the Sword of Eden under his possession—Germain first showed the sword to Xavier, both master and apprentice were unaware that at that very day was the Templar Grandmaster's final moment.

* * *

**Xavier's POV**

I recalled that sword that I found Celestine's hand that time where we finally met again. Good God, it was the Sword of Eden! I heard that the bastard Assassin who killed my Master was the one who took possession of it after leaving Master Germain for dead—here! In the very heart of the catacombs! The Sanctuary of the Templar Order!

What was his name?

_Arno… Arno Dorian._

Yes… that's right. I heard Celestine say his first name.

I remember when Master first showed me that majestically golden sword. It was such a glorious time for the Master because finally with the Sword of Eden in his hand, he can finally fulfill his mission for the Templar Order but then that bastard came to where Germain was hiding and then killed him off here in the catacombs.

_I must retrieve that Sword…_

_But how? They're probably out looking for me, especially Celestine._

I felt the burning rage and hate that coursed through her veins, see must have seen the memory of her dead parents as she saw me once again; those Assassin fools, she should be thankful I spared her from killing her right after I murdered her parents but I pitied her that time because her fighting skills were to basic—she was no match for me that time—but now, it seems that she has really been practicing, perhaps with those Assassins. She really did join those mongrels, didn't she?

I saw the potential she had in her. Such skill. Such grace and poise. Such balance and flexibility. She has turned out to be a tactician and a skilled fighter then.

Then I suppose she is really ready to fight me? After all these years of hiding and hiding under the Master's wing…

_I suppose the fledgling has to fly from the nest, then?_

So be it.

Although there is this sweet irony that I enjoy so much…

The Assassins do not know where I am hiding. So while they are out there scouting and wasting their time in looking for me—surely they have raided the mansion in Marais—and probably scurried into the other channels of the catacombs, they still haven't found me.

Perhaps young Celestine is the only one capable of finding me—I can sense it. Her bloodlust for me is strong that I know that she's determined to find me and even kill me. But first… my plot.

I exited the heart of the catacombs and then rejoined my patrol of bodyguards. I was escorted to my coach and back to my place is Palais du Luxembourg.

 _You people honestly thought that I only resided in the mansion in Marais?_   _How laughable._

As I boarded my carriage, my right-hand man Lucius was there waiting on the opposite bench.

"Well, how was your time in the catacombs, Grandmaster?"

I sat back in my seat and relaxed, "I'm still trying to figure it out on the Assassins' motives."

"And the girl?"

I looked at him sternly, squinted my eyes at him indirectly telling him to elaborate whatever it is he is trying to say. I scoffed and my eyebrows pulled.

* * *

As Xavier entered his personal coach, sitting right in the opposite seat was Lucius Blaise.

He is Xavier's right hand man. A young man of twenty-nine years, with a remarkable mind and sharp tongue serving the Templar Order ever since he was twenty-three and decided to stay by Xavier's side after Germain's death to help him cope and control his insane fits sometimes. If Maximus is brash, then Lucius is the exact opposite of the young Grandmaster—he is somewhat calm and controlled, his stern yet handsome face and black hair projected an enigmatic persona in him; once a scholar, he has the capability to strategize attacks as well if he finds Maximus's approach to be cliché and predictable.

"And the girl?" he asked, his tone was calm and almost expressionless.

At first, Xavier had no idea what Lucius meant—he practically had no idea that Lucius was referring to Celestine since he knows that Maximus's main target was her.

"What about the girl, Lucius?" Xavier growled, exasperated.

Lucius, as stoic and vague in his black robes, blinked once although his eyelids heavily covered his eyes and then stared to the open window, out where he sees the poverty as they roll by the annexes of Paris.

"It's surprising of you to not know what I meant. Fairly enough, a brash young man like you ought not to know in the first second."

"Tell me, Lucius, I don't have time for riddles."

"What do you plan for the girl? The Assassin woman?"

"Oh, her. I have better plans for her but first I need to purge the rats in the hole where she hides."

"The Assassins." He turned to Xavier with a heavy tone, as if he felt some kind of sympathy and then he returned his attention to the window where he continues to sightsee the poor streets.

"Lucius," Xavier's voice has finally calmed down and he waited for him to turn to him again just so he can continue, "They have the Sword."

For once, Lucius's expression changed. From a poker face into one that had expression even though it was just a slight pull of his eyebrows together to show that he was listening.

"The Sword, Xavier?"

Lucius, even though he is only a right-hand man of the young Grandmaster, does not practically address Maximus as "Master", he just really does address him with his name either his first or last—this comes to show that he has been by Xavier's side ever since.

"Yes, the Sword. They have it. Celestine wielded it when we met again—back underground in the catacombs when I was praying in one of the dead ends."

"And you plan to take it back?" Lucius raised an eyebrow, he wasn't entirely confident that Xavier could take it so easily.

"Yes, but of course, they are probably out looking for me."

"You don't say?" Lucius retorts sarcastically.

Maximus gritted his teeth and looked at Lucius with his remark, he raked his hair stressfully and sat back harshly on his seat's backrest as he thinks of a better approach.

What Xavier had in mind is that he wants to take out the scouts first so that it was urge the Assassins to come for him. It was mainly a genocide. And the Assassins are in a race against time and the Templar Grandmaster's plans for the Brotherhood.

As they arrived home in their place in Palais du Luxembourg, Xavier was immediately greeted by one of the National Guard to which he is gradually bringing into his influence.

"Any news on Dumas?" Xavier demands.

"Not yet, sir."

"Well, did you even report to him and personally talked to him?"

"I… I did, sir but… he was strong on his ground—says that he will not be brought to our cause."

"That unintelligible bastard!" Xavier roared across the conference room.

Another guard approached him after Xavier angrily swept away all of the papers and letters laid down on the desk, the particular guard's hands were shaking as he slowly handed out an enveloped letter to Maximus.

"What is that?" Xavier asked brashly.

The guard swallowed his fear and then finally spoke up, "A letter… personally written by Captain Dumas."

Xavier snatched it, ripped open one side of the envelope and then pulled out the parchment. He unfolds the letter and his eyes rolled from left to right and downwards as he reads the message silently—although his mouth would slightly open, silently mouthing out the words and then finally threw it down on the desk snappily.

"That bastard! He really thinks he stays on his own ground, hm? I'll show him!"

In anger, Maximus toppled the bronze candleholder on the desk, the guard shook and jumped at the shoulders in fear of the roaring rage of their Master. Lucius, however, was indifferent with the expression as he kept his face straight and his eyelids half-closed covering his deep brown eyes.

* * *

In the catacombs, rats scoured, small spiders skittered or hung by their webs and strange-looking lizards crawled amongst the cracks and crevices of the bricks, burnt-out torches on its holders are close to dying out, dust swept and swished away as the slightest string of air blows in…

But today, the stomping of boots—sturdy yet swift—frightened the smaller vermin and with every skid and stomp they disturbed the stillness of the dust, the torches and gas lamps in their hands outshined the old dying torches, their labored inhaling and exhaling—blew out the collective dust resting on the narrow edges of the broken-down and open crevices of the limestone bricks that held together the annexes and intersections.

The leader—clad in royal blue robes and a hood concealing the face, the brightest torch in hand and the calmest of breathing despite their endeavor—assigned each of the scouts in the squad to take out all directions to cover the ground of their location. The leader took down the hood and in the burning glow of the torchlight, showed the face of a young woman with rosy cheeks, warm brown eyes and long, wavy, dark hair hanging down to her breasts, practically covering them.

Celestine and her patrol—the ones who willingly went with her when she decided to independently scour the underground rat maze, with Arno included in her party—they split up into divisions as they look for more hideouts of the Templars, preferably an influence under Xavier and most likely—if ever—his right-hand man. But with the roughest luck, they couldn't find a materialistic clue on where they keep track of Maximus and so the scouts retreated to the social clubhouses while Celestine, Arno and their three Brothers raced across the streets of the city to return to the Sanctuary; they were in the district of Ventre de Paris—an intentional detour of the five of them—and stood over the concrete rooftop of a building, apparently a mansion.

"What now?" Siegfried.

"We keep looking." Octavien.

"Where are we going to look? I feel like we've scoured the  _entirety_  of the catacombs!" Felix exclaimed.

While the boys were bickering, Celestine kept quiet, relaxingly sitting down with her one knee pulled up close to her chest as she props her arm on her kneecap—thinking of a deeper understanding and deeper strategy of the approach she has had in mind.

"Celestine?" Arno.

She turns to him and smiles, "I'm fine,  _grazie._ "

"What is it that you're thinking?"

"Back when we first encountered Maximus, I used the Sword of Eden—as you gave it to me—and used it in duel against him. Do you think he has taken interest of it? Interest of taking it back since in the first place it was in Germain's hands?"

Arno took a moment of thinking before he could even answer, "Perhaps—but we really don't know his true motives, do we?"

"You have a point."

The both of them turned around to find the boys bickering and arguing—collectively and particularly about thinking of another approach, giving a rest at least for just a few days and what Xavier is actually doing—Celestine secretly giggled and then stood up.

"Alright, alright, you boys—you do have a point, let's at least rest. Even if we scour Paris every day, it's not like we're going to bump into Maximus within the districts." Celestine.

"Is it time to go home, Sister?" Felix.

" _Oui_." She nods.

They warmed themselves up, cricked their necks and stretched their arms and legs, and in the blink of an eye—as fast as lightning—the Assassins darted and tore down the wind with their amazing agility and speed, their endurance and balance, and of course their sense of fun as they leaped and ran together in synchronization—it's like seeing predatory birds glide and fly through the air altogether.

They all went into the Café Theatre through the main entrance but they weren't minded by the patrons and continued watching the play onstage, the three of them went to the bar while Celestine and Arno went upstairs.

Celestine made herself busy in the Armor Room—shedding her coat and armaments, leaving just her vest, blouse and britches—although Andre wasn't there but she still took an average lance and started swinging it in the air—pretending that there's an effigy or someone to hit in front of her. Arno found her practicing by herself, he leaned against the doorway and then observed her movements—he examined her stances, her attacks, the speed, her execution of the attack and she was even performing blocking stances; a few attacks later, he decided to step in and still she kept going, this time she was combining both attacking and blocking—as if she had the mindset that there is someone fighting her and that she has to stay focused.

She really is loyal to her father's teachings.

"You know, you're going to have a fatigue breakdown if you keep that up," Arno remarked as he walked past her and leaned against the banister leading to the upper platform of more weaponry.

"Well, so far, I'm not feeling anything yet."

Everyone understood Celestine's desire for vengeance against Maximus, even her brothers understood how much research she's doing just so she could dig up his whereabouts; with Adrien leading the scout party, they report to the Council as they try to reconnect their previous findings to the other with Celestine and the Assassins—and then her along with the companions who willingly volunteered to come with her.

Arno sighed, took down his hood, he detached his armament and gauntlets from his arms, pulling away from the banister and walking up to her—just before she could perform another strike to her invisible target, he quickly grabbed the rod and urged her to relax her grip ad herself—she gazed upon his eyes and submitted, gently she lowered down her arm but little did he know that her firm grip was still intact and so she had a little trick up her sleeve, when she had lowered down her lance on the desired height she immediately grabbed the other end of the staff with her free hand, swiftly and gracefully she shifted to his back with the rod pinning him by his broad chest.

"Do you like it? It's a new trick I thought of—though it took a lot of practice." Celestine mischievously purred by Arno's neck.

"Impressive,  _amore mio._ " He smirks as he makes a side glance.

She smiled sweetly and tiptoed to kiss him even just at the back of his jawline and then lowered down her lance this time for sure.

But this time, it was Arno who had a sly little trick. With the same lance, he swung it over and grabs the other end with his free hand—almost like the same thing that she did—but then he pins Celestine with the staff to pull her closer to him, literally trapping her; but instead of being in a state of surprise, she was giggling.

"Alright, now  _that_  is impressive." She chuckled.

Arno playfully smirks and pulls in for a passionate kiss. He put away the lance while Celestine fetched her coat and their weapons, and they went out of the Armor Room hand in hand. Just as they got out of the room, Celestine started to tug herself and Arno to the library but then he tugged her harder close to him and he sighed, as if he was rearing a curious little girl.

"Will you please give yourself a rest? Please? Don't stress about this so much, Celestine. Although I understand what you're feeling."

"Can we at least have some tea while we enjoy a good book or each other's company?"

She squeezed his hands—urging him to allow her request and he relaxed his shoulders and sighed,

"Alright, if that's what you want."

They fetched some tea for themselves but Celestine a handful of her favorite macarons. They walked back up to the library and then comfortably lounged on the second floor—as it is Celestine's favorite spot in the study hall, the large table next to the huge window at the end of the study room is her second favorite—and then they read books together, since it was for leisure, they read classical literature such as proses and poems and Celestine enjoyed them very much.

Arno leaned on the mahogany banister and sighed—he turned to her and found her lying down on the velvety couch that fits her perfectly and comfortably, she was still reading the same book and she seems to have indulged to it—as he observed her, her delicate fingers flip the pages of the book and then her hazel brown eyes—so full of interest—roll left to right with every verse and with every line she reads. He crawls closer to her and the ends of her long wavy hair twirled and curled as he fiddles it between his fingers yet she still paid attention to her book.

" _Est-ce livre beaucoup plus intéressant que moi?_ " he jokes.

Celestine looked at him and smiled, " _Eh bien, vous êtes beaucoup plus intéressant, mais..._ "

" _Mais quoi?_ "

"This story is just really well-written." She reasons out.

Arno sighed—although sounding like a half-scoff—and he continues to fiddle with her wavy locks but with her free hand she took his wrist, the same hand that he was using to play with her hair, she closed her eyes for the moment while she was still holding onto Arno but then he lifted up her upper body a little and he sat down on the couch where she was positioned, he took her in his arms and cradled her lovingly as he continues to caress her. He tenderly planted a kiss on her cheek, his stubble tickling her jawline and caresses the silkiness of her long dark hair.

She lolled her head to Arno's side, their faces close to each other, the tips of their noses touching; the left side of Arno's lip curled up playfully and pulled in to steal a kiss.

"I know what you're up to, Arno." She muttered.

"Do you now?" he smirks.

"I know you, Arno."

* * *

**Celestine's POV**

He smirks at me, cradles my cheek with his hands and pulls in for another kiss but this time it he gave it a much more different approach. I felt his arms greedily wring around my waist and pull me in closer, he scooped up my leg and tugged it closer—I was starting to feel a hard-on. I brought myself to sit on his lap and he secured me with his grip on my waist, we continued to kiss yet I felt his tongue thrust into my mouth—I felt that he was teasing me—and he tugged me closer and closer until I felt a bump between my legs.

His hands were beginning to crawl underneath my white blouse until I felt the paddings of his fingertips pressing onto my skin, I grabbed him by his collar as he stimulated me with his love hands and he seems to like it but then again…

"Wait…" I mumbled as I pulled away.

"What is it?"

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes," he cups my cheeks, "Yes, I'm very sure."

Our kiss continues on but this time I feel him thrusting his tongue inwards, I felt the stubby tip of his tongue exploring my mouth and sucking onto my lower lip ever so tenderly—and here I am submitting to the pleasure—I dared myself to unbutton his vest while I felt his hands prying upwards on my sides, he was almost close to my breasts but he didn't proceed to it; he brushed away my hair to the other side to bare my neck and he started to kiss me there—no, he wasn't biting me, just to make it clear—and I hate to admit that that is my weak spot yet he's going for it.

"Arno…" I mewled while he nibbles me, "Arno, please…"

"Celestine?" he pulled away for a short while just so he could let me finish talking.

"Not in here, please."

"Alright then," he smiled sweetly, "Come on, let's go somewhere private."

We got off the couch, fetched our things and then headed for the hatch to the attic, he led the way as he kept his grip firmly on my tiny hand—but it didn't hurt as I clenched my fingers to hold onto his—and not to my surprise, he brought me to the duct that leads to his bedroom. He went down first and I followed a few steps after him, before I could even take a look around his room even though I've seen this almost everyday here in the mansion he has already snatched me by the waist—I am literally at least an inch away from his face and he's smiling playfully; I licked my lips as I catch a glimpse of his eyes and obviously he saw that.

"Why so tense all of a sudden, Celestine?"

I couldn't answer.

"Just relax." He gently drops his coat and gauntlets and he starts on my neck this time, the sensation causing me to drop my own coat and bracers as I quietly puled and gradually succumbed.

Arno's tongue slid from my neck down to my shoulders as he pushes away the fabric covering them, his fingers expertly unbuttoned my blouse's buttons until he was able to shove down my shirt to reveal the skin, while he—or his tongue—works the way square on my shoulders I was already unbuttoning his vest and briskly on his white undershirt; I was slowly losing my resistance as he nibbles my shoulder and I could feel his free hand—since he had his arm rung around my waist—unbuckling my own britches, I did the same to his breeches just so we could be even but then he pinned me to the wall right next to the ladder that leads to the attic but then I felt him grab my thighs and lift me up so easily.

I wrapped his neck in my arms as we continue to lock each other's lips but then he brought me to his bed, gently laying me down as I take off my boots and then crawling backwards knowing the fact that I know what he is going to do next—upon propping myself on both elbows, I watched him eagerly taking off his boots and then crawl towards me lustfully while we are almost stripped of our own clothes.

He lovingly plants kisses on my cheek and then up to my temple, his lips go down in search of my own yet he licks my jawline at the same time my right elbow was slowly giving in—I do and do not want him to dominate me so it's pretty much of a little problem—he wrings his arm around my waist again and pulls me up, bringing my lower abdomen to feel an erection in his britches; after licking my jawline and finally ending the search for my mouth, I clutched tightly on his sleeve, crumpling the fabric, urging him to keep going—but after that long, hard kiss he moved to the center of my throat and kissed the crevice at the base of my neck.

Since my blouse's buttons were undone, he had access to my chest and he pulled the midline open as he found my breasts. As he played them, he looks up to me—the tips of our noses colliding again.

"You're so beautiful." He whispers as his fingers go through my locks and I felt him gently clutch onto my hair, and then kisses me passionately as he thrusts his tongue into my mouth again and this time, my own tongue played with his.

He stimulated me and I suppose he knew well of what he was doing— _to me_.

I was waiting for the right time when I can dominate him where he least expects it and when I was sure that it was the right moment, I grabbed him firmly on his shoulders and rolled over to pin him down; I chuckled triumphantly, signifying my dominance over him, then I heard him chuckle as if satisfied with my movement—I leaned forward to him, licked his neck and nibbled his earlobe and I heard him moan.

_It's been a while since we were intimate like this. So much work to do back then but… this feels nice._

Slowly but surely, from licking his neck I went down to lick the upper groove between his pectorals and that's when things started to intensify as he moaned pleasurably, his other response was his hands—they were beginning to grab hold of the hem of my shirt and pull it up so as to strip me off my blouse and gladly I let my shirt shed off from my body, he tosses it to the floor and I continue to play with him.

This was the first time I bared myself naked right in front of Arno but I didn't care—it was him anyway.

To make it even, I took off his shirt and he helped me along with it and we continued planting each other's lips on each other's skin. As Arno tenderly caresses my breasts, I mewled as he unexpectedly sucks them and kisses the gap between.

When we were finally stripped of our breeches, Arno's love hands slid over my legs and circled my thighs and with every moan that he hears from me urges him to go on and on.

The night felt warm and yet it was so satisfying…

* * *

**Arno's POV**

_Her skin…_

_So soft and so luscious…_

My tongue trailed across the skin of her stomach and down to her legs as my hands circled and caressed her creamy thighs, her moans sounded so satisfying that I wanted to keep going. And then I went back up to her tender breasts, licked and kissed them—causing her to mewl and cradle my head as my mouth sucks onto her bosom; slipping my arms around her waist and tugging her closer, she raked my hair as she passionately kisses me and her slow and gently kisses on my cheeks stimulated me to secure her much closer—to the point that there is no space between us and that we're pressing onto each other.

"Celestine…" I muffled as I slightly pulled my mouth away from her neck.

"Arno…?"

"Please… let me…" I panted, "Let me own you."

She looked down at me as I lifted her up a little by the waist, her eyes gleaming and her slender fingers delicately traced my stubble.

She instantly knew what I meant and gradually she gave in as she slowly lies down, totally permitting me domination over her, another long kiss and I put in my member into her; the whole time while romancing, she was moist and I felt it, I just waited for the right time to do so.

As I entered her, she gave out a satisfied moan and her waist followed my rhythm, I crawled back up to her and watched her expression—her hands slid upwards to my broad shoulders as I continue to thrust myself into her—with my free hand, I caressed her cheek going to her hair that was beautifully lacing her pillow with those dark wavy locks.

"Ah, Arno!" she exclaimed.

Her fingers slipped under my arms and raked my back, the sensation of her fingernails digging through my skin intensified me and impulse me to go deeper—so I did.

The rhythm went on, I could feel her breasts pressing onto my chest and I was getting close to the climax. Whenever I pull away, I take the small of her waist and manipulate her with the rhythm, her hands clutch onto my forearms as we go on and she would beg.

"More, Arno…! More…! Ahh, please!"

It went on and on, we both loved the sensation of each other. My hands took hers from my shoulders as she takes support from it, I slowly pinned them down on the bed and continued thrusting into her continuously with the rhythm that she loves.

I'm almost to the climax but at the moment my lips crave for the skin of her sweet neck and shoulders, then I would glide up my tongue in search of her luscious, pink lips and probably coax her tongue with mine as I play inside her mouth. Her moans were music to my ears.

"Ahh, Celestine! I'm coming…!"

"Arno! Please…!"

I spilled all inside her, warm liquid coming into her as we both catch our breaths; I leaned down to give her one last kiss on her lips and I tossed myself to her side, pulled up the blankets and covered us up, I put my arm around to cuddle her tightly and warmly, and let my fingers play with her hair as I plant tender kisses on her forehead—and like a child, she slowly fell asleep.

"Celestine,"

"Hmn?" she said, on the verge of falling asleep.

" _Te amo, amore mio._ " I whispered.

" _Te amo, mi tesoro._ " She smiles while she has her eyes closed.

With that, I gave her a good night kiss on her cheek while I caress her hair and she falls asleep. I have ever felt this satisfied in all my life—if you're thinking of the malicious satisfied well then, you are terribly wrong—I examine her as she sleeps, she's so beautiful and peaceful tonight that I couldn't dream of a better night.

_Celestine…_

_I'll protect you._

_When the time comes wherein we battle Xavier and end him for good, I'll make sure you won't get hurt. Prometto._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRENCH:
> 
> Est-ce livre beaucoup plus intéressant que moi? – Is that book much more interesting than me?
> 
> Eh bien, vous êtes beaucoup plus intéressant, mais... – Well, you are much more interesting, but…
> 
> Mais quoi? – But what?


	31. Xavier's Confidante

**Arno's POV**

The sunlight pooled through her bedroom window, particles of dust danced within the range of the beam as I woke. Sitting up carefully, trying not to wake her, I rubbed my head and stretched my arms; I looked down on her—even though she has her back turned to me—the lining of her back, the curve of her waist and how her soft dark locks cover and lace the upper portion of her back reminded me of everything that happened last night.

Alright, I admit, everything got  _slightly_ out of hand but it wasn't that bad.

_She was actually amazing._

I gently caressed a strip of her hair and it lightly fell down to the mattress, with her undisturbed until she squirmed a little—as if she was still dreaming—so I decided to lie down with her again but this time I carefully pulled her closer to me and spooned her; and again she is still uninterrupted. I closed my eyes for a few more minutes while I embrace her until the clock outside in the second-floor foyer was chiming heavily—the same hollow tune at every sharp hour—she lifted her head, scanning the room around apparently finding our clothes tossed and crumpled all together on the carpet.

She turned to me, the thick blanket covering her bosom and her messed hair slightly covering half of her face like a veil, her eyes were still sleepy before she rubbed them and then lied down again but this time she was facing up. My arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her in again, I observed the relaxed rising and dropping of her upper chest—just below the base of her neck—as the end of her eyelashes curl upwards to the tips.

"Good morning," I cooed.

She smiled back before she spoke, then blinked twice slowly; she turned her head to the side to face me, " _Buongiorno._ "

"Did you have a nice sleep,  _tesora?_ "

"Yes. How about you,  _amore_?"

"It was nice." I smiled, then I leaned forward to kiss her forehead and the tip of her nose.

Another five minutes before getting up, we were staring at that beam of sunlight that pooled on her carpet and we watched the tiny bits of dust dancing and collide and then twirl altogether in the faint air.

"What's going on in my darling's mind?" I asked her, while the two of us are still staring at the beam of light.

"Ever wondered how light those bits of dust are?"

I sighed, I knew she was being curious and philosophical at the same time, I chuckled and snuggled my face into her neck, I felt my stubble tickle her cheek because she squirmed.

"Time to get up, Celestine."

"Carry me?"

"Celestine..." I groaned comically.

She laughed and struggled to get up even though she seems to be enjoying the warmth of the sheets. As she cocooned herself, I dug through her sheets and carried her like a bride—well, of course, she is my bride-to-be—and I was glad that she wasn't flinching or fighting back.

"Are you going to stand up this time?" I joked.

" _Oui._ " She mumbled, her voice is still half-asleep.

"You better." I chuckled.

We took our clothes that were still scattered on the floor but she decided to choose a newer blouse instead of the one she wore last night, although she used the same britches—they weren't that dirty anyway—while I still stuck with my clothes from last night.

As we were getting dressed, she helped me in fixing my white dress shirt—from straightening the collar to buttoning it—but as she was about to fasten the buttons of my vest, I held her hands to stop her.

"It's alright, I'll get some new clothes from my bedroom." And kissed her hands.

Yet I grew weak to the temptation and succumbed to kissing her peachy lips passionately, as I pulled back she was smirking—I never realized how beautiful she looks when she just got out of bed.

"I'll see you outside,  _capito?_ " she says as she makes her way out of her bedroom.

" _Ou vas-tu?_ "

"Maybe collect the money from the intendant's chest and probably grab some breakfast for us from the kitchen and then skip to the library—you'll see me there reading another geography book while drinking tea and munching on macarons." She concludes with one of her sweet, innocent smiles.

I chuckled.

She chuckled back and replied, " _Je suis serieux_."

"Alright, alright—I'll see you then."

She went out of her bedroom with just her dress shirt and britches on, leaving her Assassin robes hanging on the rack, as I proceeded to my own bedroom—I decided to walk across the foyer rather than going up within the ceiling—and picked out fresh new robes.

After fixing myself, I went to the kitchen to check if she was still there—the maids said that she left with a handful of macarons from the baking tray and probably headed to the study hall, so I went there instead but just by peeking from outside, I didn't see her inside so I presumed she was still in the intendant's office but lo, she wasn't there.

_Now, what is that girl up to now?_

_She has always been the playful type, but I didn't mind because I find it delightfully adorable of her._

_Well then, since she isn't in the library—not in the intendant's office or the kitchen as well—where could she be then? Oh, wait… she's still in her dress shirt and pants, so she's probably picking new robes as well._

I climbed back upstairs and then to her room, I knocked twice and waited for a response—and a muffled voice came to answer me, it was her.

"Wait, you can't come in yet. I'm changing."

After a few minutes of waiting and standing by her door, she opens it and steps out. She was wearing black robes this time—taking a break from her Master Assassin robes.

"I'm sorry, I felt like changing clothes."

"It's alright, come on—we ought to check in to the Brotherhood, see if our Brothers are still there."

Just as we were halfway on the staircase, Juliette—now seventeen—was waiting at the foot of the stairs. She has changed from where I first saw her in their former residence nearby the district of the tanneries; from looking so frail, pale-skinned and trauma flooding in her eyes—she has changed a lot, her skin flushed back into its healthy pinkish color, the look in her eyes felt warm maybe because she's been in love with our fellow Assassin the young Adrien and her soft voice gradually rose to a much more normal volume which is a good improvement given the tragedy that happened to her.

"Celestine, may I talk to you for a moment?" Juliette.

"Of course."

I and Celestine rushed towards the bottom of the stairs, giving courtesy to the ladies I stepped away from their radius so that they will have privacy—Juliette tends to be secretive and awfully shy about whatever she has to say and that she only opens up to her cousin to which I understand.

* * *

As Celestine and Juliette privately talked whatever matters the latter had, she was asking Celestine a favor to keep watch of Adrien as he tends to be reckless—given his adventurous attitude—she knew that he belonged to the same scout party led by her older cousin and that she asks to watch over him, as much as possible keep him away from harm; of course, with Celestine being so direct, she can't help but tell her younger cousin the truth and cannot guarantee her full safety of her lover.

"I'm sorry, Juliette, I can't promise you anything—but I assure you that we will be alright. Being an Assassin has its occupational hazards, my cousin, you well ought to understand that." Celestine.

"Yes, I understand."

"Good. Don't worry, Adrien will be fine under my command—he is the leader of his own scout troop."

"Alright. You all be careful, alright?"

"Thank you, cousin. You stay here where it's safe."

Juliette and Celestine concluded their chat, the young girl went back upstairs and secluded herself in her bedroom while the she-Assassin rejoined Arno then the both of them headed to the Brotherhood through the secret passage just at the back of the mansion.

Going through the hollow, candlelit tunnel that echoes the sound of the stale wind blowing through, they turned right—nodding at the Assassins who they meet along the way—and went upstairs, hoping to find their Brothers but much to their surprise the boys weren't there.

"Where are they?" Celestine.

"Who?" Adrien.

"Siegfried… and Felix and Octavien?"

"Last I heard they went together on a mission in the Louvre."

"Templar activity going on in that part of the city?" Arno.

"Most likely—some of the imperialists' doing."

Celestine and Arno abruptly rushed downstairs and then headed outside, they burst out the metal gate that creaked and clanked as they opened it in a manner where they seemed that they rammed it open—in fact, they opened it when they were still in the momentum of their speed and growing adrenaline—and began running.

"Should we take the horses?" Celestine suggested.

"Let's!"

They climbed the concrete wall, Celestine untethered the horse she paid and bought from the Italian man before while Arno negotiated with the driver who has a coach waiting for anyone requiring transport to Versailles and gladly accepted—through a convincing price of livres; the couple mounted their steeds and vigorously spurred on the streets.

Even though this sounded like a minor mission from Adrien, for Celestine—at least within her instincts—it could be a lead.

Startling the peasants across the streets, Celestine skillfully turned to every blind or sharp curve that came along their way as they rode onto their stallions—their animals heaved and hooved, nostrils huffed and their mouths puffed out their labored breathing—yet they carefully navigated their route wherein they will avoid the range of sight of the national guards or the extremists; it was a little challenging for them because the location of the Louvre is swarming with Templars and their guards so they had no choice but to slow down their horses, they concealed themselves as they dismounted their horses and hid behind the sides where the animal would block them from the sight of the roving guards.

"Do you think we can bring the horses in?" Arno.

"Think about it—they're going to steal our horses to escape." Celestine points out.

"Where do you think we can keep them safe from getting stolen?"

Just as she was about to think about an alternative escape route that would lead them to their horses so that they could speed away from their pursuers and head to the Sanctuary, they heard someone whispering at them, calling them "Brother" and "Sister" in the faintest volume of voices; both of them tracked the voice and found the source, it was another of the Assassins—but surely, he was by himself—hiding between the alley of two houses.

"Brother?" Celestine, addressing to their fellow Assassin.

"I think I could help you with your beasts."

" _Aller de l'avant_."

"And also, I could help you with your escape route should the Templars catch you."

"But first, do you know the whereabouts of our fellow Brothers?" Arno.

"Are you referring to Octavien, Siegfried, and Felix?"

"Yes, that's right." Arno.

"Well, they are within the Louvre—suppose they're retrieving something that was stolen by the Templars."

"We don't have much time, you two, we need to make up a plan now." Celestine demanded.

Their main objective is to regroup with their three Brothers and aide them in their retrieval mission. Should they get caught by the extremists or the National Guards, they would either kill the bellringer or escape before the reinforcements start to flood. As for the horses, their fellow Assassin will rent another horse for himself to guide Celestine, Arno and their Brothers as well from the extremists at a certain distance.

They also expect that there may be some of them suffering injuries—whether it could be the first three who have been out there longer than the couple or wounds may be inflicted upon them during an encounter. If they managed to escape from the Louvre with all the retrieved items, they go to the rooftop and head to the back of the entire building where their horses and the Assassin will be waiting for them nearby a merchant stall—their escape route may lead them to the Bastille which would elongate their distance but it won't matter as long as everybody,  _and everything_ , is back home safe and sound.

"Seems realistic enough, given the probabilities." Celestine remarks.

"You're up for it?" Arno.

"When was I never?" she smirked.

"Off you two go then." Their Assassin friend says.

The two of them sped towards their nearest possible entrance within the walls of the Louvre and of course, they could never miss grabbing a sniper by the collar by surprise and throw them off the edge and hear their skulls crack. Well, at least, that's just Celestine.

"You know we could have just lunged at him," Arno suggested.

"Too bad, he's dead." and she replied while chuckling.

Arno has long tolerated Celestine's dark humor and sadism, so he had no choice; he only shook his head as the two of them climbed up like spiders.

"We can always find another one to kill—this place is swarming with them like cockroaches," Celestine said as she landed in a crouch after jumping from her perch.

"Yes, well, should we split up?"

"Well, whatever helps us in covering more ground; and also it is most likely that our Brothers have split up as well."

"What exactly are they retrieving?"

"Artifacts or relics, no doubt."

And they did split up, with the hope that they would regroup with their companions and probably stumble into a skirmish even though it's nerve-racking to infiltrate a building that is filled with a big swarm of reds.

_A swarm of reds is Celestine's term of the extremists especially stationed in a huge single building._

Their plan was to first find the boys and they did. It took them a little while, of course, from hiding to making brutes berserk in order to make a distraction to easily slip away from the enemies' range of sight and proceed to the next room—the job of an Assassin is never easy anyway.

The couple split up, agreeing that she would take the western side of the building while he takes the east.

With Celestine being the most elusive, the sleight of her movements made her almost unnoticeable to her enemies. She made good use of the quantity of her arsenal—which she overloaded after buying from several merchants—carefully and wisely choosing between a Phantom Blade or a Berserk Blade on a certain target. But her main tactic has always been shooting a Berserk Blade at the brutes and lancers.

As for Arno, his speed and silence compensated for his prowess as he is more straightforward in terms of fighting. Using smoke bombs or poison bombs was his tactic but he balances the frequency of his usage with his Phantom Blade. As he silently stalked the room, he managed to silently eliminate the off-guard lancer who was overlooking papers on the elaborate study table while his two companions—a brute and a high-ranking swordsman—were leisurely looking through the window and pacing back and forth. Before the brute could even pace back to where he could see the lancer—who will be dead in a matter of minutes—Arno has already killed his target standing by the table and ejected a Phantom Blade right at the brute's face, remarkably he hit the eye for an instant kill but this alarmed the last man standing and before he could even scream and alarm his comrades, Arno gracefully leaped across the room and his blade landed straight into the swordsman's throat.

"Now, where are those boys?" he asked himself, looking at the three dead bodies lying around casually as if it was some minor mess.

He retrieved his bloodied Phantom Blade from the brute, spurting out blood from the eye socket and wiping it on the red vest before he could even put it back into the barrel where the ammo is contained.

He carefully stalks across the halls and spacious foyers and living rooms, sabotaging every single bell he spots within a room or nailed to the wall, manually unlatching whatever door he finds locked and killing an extremist instantly before they raise an alarm until he heard noises coming from the next intersection of the hallway, he hoped that it was Octavien, Siegfried or Felix so he hurriedly sprinted towards the room where the sounds are gradually becoming louder.

To his surprise, it was Celestine and Octavien fighting against Lucius—Xavier's chaperone and adviser. At the corner of his eye, he found Siegfried scrambling to the wall away from the radius of Celestine, Octavien and Lucius.

"Pity, the young man is wounded and therefore lost his own prowess," Lucius remarked coldly. Turns out, he has wounded Siegfried at the shoulder and thigh with a gun, causing the Assassin to bleed badly.

"Tell me where Maximus is!" Celestine roared angrily as she clashed swords with Lucius.

You see, the tricky part with Lucius is that…

He is a master swordsman who can wield two swords with such ease, he can also quickly shift from one sword to a gun and then return back to using his secondary sword—almost as if he is not human because of his grace and agility, added with his cold and hollow appearance.

"Tell me where he is!" Celestine roared again.

Lucius only smirked—almost menacingly—as a reply to his defiance to answer her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRENCH:
> 
> Ou vas-tu? – Where are you going?
> 
> Je suis serieux. – I'm serious
> 
> Aller de l'avant. – Go ahead.
> 
> ITALIAN:
> 
> Capito? – Understand?


	32. Master and Dog

Celestine continued to mar against Lucius—who, in turn, skillfully evades and attacks but then again her defensive skills as just as remarkable; the problem is that Lucius is unpredictable—credits to the strenuous training in the Templar Order during his youthful days.

"Before I cut you down, you best tell me where Xavier is." Celestine growled angrily.

Lucius was mute, showed that menacing smirk again at her and continued on clashing swords against the woman Assassin.

* * *

 _This is what happened before the Assassins arrived in Xavier and Lucius's hideaway—there was a regular office within the Louvre where the Grandmaster is hidden_.

A guard comes rushing to the office of Xavier where he is found consulting with Lucius. After running through vast and labyrinth-like halls, countlessly turning left and right until he found the door of the office.

"My Lord!" he beamed as he barged into the office, exhausted and sweating.

"What?!" Xavier snarled at the extremist guard as he was cut off with his conversation with Lucius—who, ever so hollow, kept mute even though an interruption occurred within the consultation.

"Assassins…" the guard muttered, paranoid of the presence of their enemy.

"What did you say?" Xavier cringed, trying hard to hear what he just said.

"Err… Assassins…" he mumbled cowardly again.

"Good God, man, speak up!" the Grandmaster impatiently demanded.

"Assassins!"

Although Lucius showed little facial expression of his reaction about the presence of the Assassins, he turned to Xavier who he expected to have at least a strategy plan.

"Assemble the guards! I want the swordsmen to hold them on the front, snipers on the balconies and rooftops, have half… no, one-fourth of the troop of lancer and brutes each to patrol the hallways—the other one-fourth takes the outer gardens, the other patrols the rooms and offices, the last fraction comes with me and Lucius!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Make sure my fraction gets here as soon as possible!"

It may not be ideal, but Lucius cannot expect more from Xavier—the young Grandmaster's paranoia has already leveled up to some kind of severe anxiety and fear on Celestine but he attempts to mask it by projecting himself as an arrogant and strong swordsman.

 _Dear Lord, he is still a child. Master Germain left him too soon… I'm not the same caliber of guidance for the young Grandmaster but hence, he still looks up to me._  Lucius thinks to himself as he watches the guard sprint out of the office to relay Maximus's orders on the platoon.

"Grandmaster, where to now?"

"We wait for our bodyguard. I want to see how far the Assassins can go."

"It may not according to the Order, but sir, you shouldn't underestimate them."

"The only one I shouldn't underestimate is the she-Assassin."

"Has she gotten stronger than you expected?"

"Somehow."

"So much things can happen in nine years, sir."

* * *

**Xavier's POV**

I noticed that whenever I speak ill of her, of her affiliation with the Assassins and moreover her family, she becomes frenzied. My provocation triggers her anger—which makes her reckless, but it's not the kind of reckless that I expected, remarkably her recklessness makes her more balanced, faster and stronger.

How is that?

But as I think of her, the way she moves in combat—of how fast and agile she cuts through the air to get to me—and the way she glares at me while wielding the Sword of Eden, I see a flame in her eyes that makes her blade thirst for butchered flesh and blood. When the steel of our swords meet, her accuracy and the strength of the impact is unusual. Her persistence is unimaginable.

Just how determined is she to kill me?

As my faction came to the office, I led them to the other office that lies deep within the vast halls of the Louvre. As Lucius walks by my side, mum as always, the guards take the rear as we walk along the corridors.

I wonder…

Is she with them?

Or is it just the men?

Either way, I know she'll come.

Upon reaching my sanctuary, we wait for the Assassins—in the middle of the silence, I ponder if they have gotten as far as the foyers and outer hallways. I ready myself with my sword while the guards are beginning to slack off probably because it's taking long for them.

_Stubborn idiots. I wouldn't mind letting the Assassins kill you first._

* * *

Meanwhile, in the outer layers of the vastness of the Louvre—Octavien, Felix and Siegfried were having a short skirmish with the guards and they were the only ones who signed up for the mission, they didn't even let Arno know about it at all as he knew about this from Adrien.

With each having their own weapon expertise, the skirmish was quite short-lived and it applied to the other skirmishes they have run into along the way.

Their main mission was to retrieve the treasures that has been stolen by the Templars and hidden within the Louvre. Little did they know that the Grandmaster was there in hiding as well—but yet, on they went with their original mission.

"Should we split up? They must have scattered each of the treasures." Octavien suggested.

"So they knew that this would happen—that we would come for the treasures they've stolen?" Siegfried.

"Probably." Felix, "Come on, I agree with Octavien's suggestion."

"Let's go then."

As the three Brothers split up and went their separate ways, Siegfried wandered off to the farther part of the Louvre—and he was slowly falling into the trap. Luckily, he survived through the patrols that were posted before even reaching Xavier's hideout—which is a secret office on the other side of a wall, at first one may think that it's a solid wall but when a secret lever is pulled (which is a bronze sconce attached to the wall) it will reveal Maximus's hiding spot.

Octavien was able to retrieve the precious artifacts on his side—but of course, a run-in is inevitable—and he reclaimed treasured accessories such as a ring, a bracelet and an amulet; Felix strategically cleared the area (apparently killed all the extremists) but he didn't shoot as this would alarm the entire place, instead he performed melee attacks with his rifle—since it was of a sturdy build, especially with the handle being made of rare ebony wood—the boy was skillful in both ranged and melee and it was no trouble for him.

Whereas Siegfried, he was getting suspicious why there is no enemy yet. It was strangely quiet—he can't hear not even the faintest thump of footsteps but he didn't let the anxiety win inside him.

"Now, where could it be?" Siegfried asks himself as he looks around the room.

He's checked the drawers, the cabinets and closets—ultimately the wardrobes—and even the bedside nightstand. Much to his disappointment of finding a larger piece of the treasure such as a goblet or a bejeweled collar, he found rings with large stones like rubies and topazes, and amulets with sapphires embedded on it—he recalled the trinkets from the books he's read from the study hall in the Brotherhood, they once belonged to the historic monarchs of France even before King Louis himself, some were even imported from London—but then he realized he's going to have a hard time pocketing those things that big if he's going to make a route for his exit.

Carefully pocketing them in his waistcoat, he decided to wander off some more and then he triggered the trap.

He fancied the bronze sconce—that happens to be the lever to activate the hideout—and delicately touched it, his gloved fingers ran across the smooth finish of the holder until he unintentionally pulled the stem that connects the base to the ornamental holder itself as his hand let down the weight.

For a split second, he was surprised as the wall heavily shifted clockwise to reveal the other side of it but he prepared for whatever will pop outside of the shadowy void. He wasn't sure of what's to come so he loaded his rifle instead and aimed at the center.

His trigger finger was shaking but he put all the light pressure to the trigger before he could actually squeeze it—he wasn't even sure where to aim yet. Just as he saw two silhouettes of different sizes—a brute and a lancer came out—but he didn't let the element of surprise dominate him; he skillfully shot at the brute and blocked the lancer's attack with his rifle, he parried the enemy and stabbed him with his own lance. He was quick at reloading—one of his many talents as a gunner—and shot another pair of enemies, leaving Xavier and Lucius vulnerable…

Or so he thought.

The moment he saw Xavier, a lot of things went into his mind.

_This is the apprentice of Germain!?_

_This is the new Grandmaster?! How come he's so young?!_

_He's the one whom Celestine is after—the one who murdered her parents._

_This is the first time I've seen him so up close… and his chaperone…_

* * *

**Xavier's POV**

The bodyguards are dead—this Assassin is commendably skillful, given that his weapon a rifle and certainly not a bayonet.

Lucius and I drew our swords and readied for the Assassin—see who attacks first. As the dust cleared after the wall shifted out because this young fool played with the lever, we saw his face—it seems like he looked like the youngest; his stubble was light but he looked stern as if this was some kind of intimidation but it had no effect on us.

Our swords gleamed bright even in the shadows of our hiding place, hear the blades sing for flesh and blood until I felt a strong blow of wind pass by my side only to realize that Lucius has taken the first move—I never doubted Lucius, not once, especially in his fighting prowess—and surely enough he must have taken the Assassin by surprise but the fool was quick enough to react—at least at the last second.

While the Assassin was open with his defense, I took the advantage but he pushed Lucius away with force but then my loyal attendant cut him down and he helplessly scrambled on the floor as he clutched his wound on the side of his stomach with his free hand.

Lucius was dominant in the fight and at any moment, on his will, he can simply plunge his sword through this reckless little boy's chest.

"Siegfried!"

_Another of them! It's their entire group!_

* * *

Octavien arrived just in time in Siegfried's aid, he blocked Lucius's incoming attack with the metal end of his corseque. Both were equally strong but Octavien was overwhelmed with his opponent's strength but then his restraint against the Templar attendant was enough time for Siegfreid to crawl away to safety, somewhere Lucius can't reach and hit him so easily.

 _He's remarkably strong. Almost inhumane!_  Octavien thought as he continues to clash weapons with the Templar servant.

"Octavien, look out!" Siegfried cried out as Lucius pulled out a dagger—longer than the usual one—to attack Octavien's open side where there is no defense present.

But before the eldest of the group of Assassins could even deflect the incoming attack, a Hidden Blade comes in suddenly to block Lucius's dagger from piercing through Octavien's side.

It was Celestine.

She kicked off Lucius with one quick sweep of her leg—causing him to drop his dagger which Celestine quickly snatched away when it clattered on the floor—a second was enough for her to draw out her sword, and then she came to her Brothers' aid; before the Templar attendant could get back up to his feet and regain his fighting composure, she took a quick look at Siegfried and the wound—she understood that the cut was bad and that he was losing blood, as if with every drop of blood was a drop of sand in the hourglass.

 _Time is ticking._ Celestine thought.

She was looking for Xavier—she knows that he can't go anywhere without his attendant—and so she chooses to clash swords with Lucius. She knows that she shouldn't waste her energy in just battling Lucius alone, fortunately Octavien was happy enough to lend out a hand to his fellow she-Assassin and his corseque was durable enough to withstand Lucius's sword.

"Siegfried, are you alright?" Celestine.

"Just… a scratch…" he mumbled weakly, obviously losing blood quickly.

Just when Arno got into the same room…

"Pity, the young man is wounded and therefore lost his own prowess." Lucius remarked coldly. Turns out, he has wounded Siegfried at the shoulder and thigh with a gun, causing the Assassin to bleed badly.

"Tell me where Maximus is!" Celestine roared angrily as she clashed swords with Lucius.b"Tell me where he is!" she roared again.

Lucius only smirked—almost menacingly—as a reply of his defiance to answer her.

* * *

**Arno's POV**

As I arrived into the same room where my Brothers and Celestine are, I was surprised to see a new Templar face into the skirmish. I saw Siegfried wounded badly and bleeding quickly, I rushed up to his aid and he managed to release the words,

"Go help them…"

"I can't leave my Brother behind!" I protested.

When the chaperone had kicked down Octavien and left Celestine standing, a voice thundered demandingly.

"Lucius, that's enough!"

Xavier came out of the shadows, sword in hand, eyes on Celestine.

"I'll deal with her—it seems that you have worn her out enough."

"I don't think so." Celestine hissed defiantly.

Her sword hand gripped firmly—but I can tell she's somewhat tense—beads of sweat trickled down her temple to her neck, her chest heaved out of the exhaustion but not out of sheer anxiety that she's going battle a second one. She had no fear. Although…

"We'll see about that, insolent child!" Xavier.

Compared to Celestine's sword, Maximus's blade was a prime-looking specimen yet hers can withstand the premium quality of the opposing blade. She never faltered. Her attacks were fast and strong—the sound of the impact proved it. She evaded smoothly, as elusive as ever, like how a falcon swoops down to evade or to sneak up on the prey.

Diligently, she observes Xavier's pattern, meanwhile Octavien had regained composure and attempted to intervene but the chaperone interrupted my Brother; as I watched over Siegfried who pressed his gloved hand hard enough to block his flesh wound, he's temporarily stopped bleeding but is in need of a doctor—but as of the moment, the least I could do is apply some medicine I have in my pouch and bandage his injury. He still cannot fight but he will survive for sure if he is well-protected.

He was really eager to help us—the three of us—he even urged me to fight and help either of them instead of staying guard on a weakling like him but I defied his plea and protected my youngest Brother. Lucius continued fighting my lance-wielding Brother while my woman is still fighting with her mortal enemy but their duel is getting intense.

* * *

**Celestine's POV**

_Cazzo! Cazzo!_

Maximus is picking up too fast! Almost as if his swordsmanship improved in only a short span of time! What's going on?!

The clashing and singing of the collision of our swords is already making my eardrums ring terribly because it's either he blocks as I attack or I block as he strikes. I have to find somewhere to hit without risking my stance!

"What's the matter, you insolent little girl?! Losing your skill?!" Xavier taunted.

_Something… doesn't feel right._

I didn't lose my focus on him, once in a while, I would switch my sight alternatively—I would focus on him, his entire body, his arms especially his sword arm or the sword itself.

I must control my emotions, whatever kind of taunt he makes I shouldn't let it get to me hence I'll lose myself and be defeated by this childish Templar. I made use of my joints—elbowing his jaw direct and hard, kicking him at the stomach and twisting his wrist. Not all was futile but it doesn't seem preferable at a type of battle.

Maximus would growl at me, the rage is painted all over his face. He was swinging and I was evading and dodging as swiftly as I could until he grabbed me by the red sash tucked around my collar, I was able to recall that I knotted my scarf in a manner where I could easily pull it off and I would escape from his choke.

"Celestine!" Arno cried as he found me restrained by the Templar Grandmaster. He tried to attack, but Maximus had him at the point of his sword.

"One step forward, boy, and your lady's blood will be all over me." Maximus snarls.

Arno couldn't do anything, he just stood there while I'm unable to at least turn my head to him. For once, I looked straight into Xavier's eyes—I saw everything that he is.

Hate. Murder. Anger. Lust for power. Obsession.

"You're within my grasp." He hissed.

Just as he was about to strike me and I had no defense whatsoever, his most trusted chaperone was injured—Octavien and Arno had singled him out but I didn't see where they had hit him because I took the split-second advantage of striking down Xavier.

I struck him down on his left shoulder—the impact of my blade must have been hard that I heard the crunching noise of the bone. He screamed in terrible pain, he fumbled as I pulled out my sword.

"One of you carry Siegfried! We're getting out of here!" I ordered.

"Get them!" Xavier cried out despite the sorry state he is in right now. "This isn't over yet, Celestine! I will heal and I will come and get you!"

We didn't have the luxury to look back, the last thing we heard was Xavier's agonizing cry, the alarm bell ringing—which I guessed that either Lucius or Maximus were ringing it—and more of Xavier's demands.

Octavien took our Brother and we escaped—nevermind the left-out treasure anymore—speeding across the halls, we called out Felix.

"Felix?! Felix, where are you?!"

"Help! Arno!" that was Felix, it sounds like he's been cornered.

Arno fished out a smoke bomb from his pocket, engaging my Hidden Blade I killed as much as I could with the given time while the fog was still thick. I bumped into Felix and we took on the remaining guards on our own sides.

"I'm amazed that you're still alive," I remarked.

"I learned from the best." Felix sniggered.

It seems that there is no one left to kill, so I grabbed Felix by the arm and we dashed through the maze-like hallways before more of the reinforcements come; we're short on our manpower with Octavien carrying Siegfried which makes two of them, I'm well aware that Felix is tired and so are Arno and I.

_We just have to keep running then, until we get out of the Louvre and find a safe place to tend to the injured._

"We need to get out of here." I gasped.

"Celestine, Arno! This way!" Felix gestured at us to come to the open window.

As we climb out of the window, we hear the heavy footsteps of the alarmed patrol inside the Louvre. My heart was racing, estimating the distance left between us and the guards before the five of us could safely disappear.

"Where are they?!"

"You there to the left! Rest of you come with me!"

"Take the west wing!"

The guards are gaining… fast.

"Quickly now, they're coming!" I panted.

I was the last to get out, I let the boys first. It was difficult because Siegfried could not move as much just like the usual, Arno, Felix and Octavien had to strategically get out of the window, get themselves between Siegfried to pull him out of the window and bring him up to the roof or the balcony's platform.

Finally, it was my turn, I hastily crawled out of the window sill just so I could grab on to the handholds of the exterior of the building. The boys were out and I was the last one to climb up.

"Here!" one guard screamed from the inside of the Louvre.

I managed to perch on the rails of the balcony where the boys were, the guard was sticking his head out searching for us, I engaged my Phantom Blade but Arno's hand gently stopped mine from firing a blade. I looked at him, his eyes were wordlessly pleading and shook his head gently.

"Come on now…" he softly spoke as he reached out his hand to pull me up to the platform safely.

As we were all rejoined, I checked Siegfried's wound. His coat and glove—which he used to press against his wound to at least manually stop the bleeding—were caked with red to maroon blood, he's not bleeding as bad anymore but his injury demandingly needs attention.

I thought of the possible options that we could do to transport Siegfried.

Rent a horse and maybe one would ride the steed with Siegfried sitting at the back of the saddle, or walk through the streets on a route where it's safe and there are fewer guards to avoid any suspicion that leads to a skirmish—if none is impossible.

"Don't pity me! I can free-run just fine!" Siegfried suddenly growled and he surprised the four of us.

"Are you sure?" I asked him, testing his defiance and rebellion.

"Yes! I can run just like the usual! It's just a scratch!"

_How do you suppose a 2-inch deep cut is a scratch? I guess I'm just underestimating you or I am just exaggerating the injury's condition._

"Well then, if you're normal, go climb that wall that leads to the roof. We'll catch up to you afterwards." I pointed the wall right next to us that seems to measure up to nine feet above the platform's ground.

I am not humiliating him, I just want him to realize that arrogance and pride won't help him live. If he thinks he can handle himself with a wound that terrible, then I'm impressed—I suppose arrogance can really save you… for once.

Siegfried staggered and limped, still holding on to his wound as he steps closer to the wall; he reaches out his arms to try and grab the ledge but then again, he slipped off and stumbled but I had already caught him with my arm before he could even land his arse onto the dust.

"You see, my Brother, arrogance will lead you nowhere," I told him.

"I… My apologies, Sister."

"You are forgiven. Before you could even actually move around, we ought to fix that wound first."

We gave our bandages and medicine to Siegfried, wrapped it around his waist since his wound was on his side. We gave it a few minutes to heal and when he was doing alright, we decided to head out.

"Felix, you and Octavien get up there while Arno and I will boost Siegfried up there."

We decided to go across the rooftops first until we find a suitable ostler somewhere down there. Whenever we come across gaps—narrow or wide—we cooperated with each other, two would jump off to the next roof across and find a plank that Siegfried would walk over to cross.

Felix spotted an ostler, we descended from the roofs and approached the man, we rented only a single horse and Octavien decided to ride the horse along with Siegfried while the rest of us will go on ahead to clear the way for the two of them. We bought a dark blue cloak for Octavien and Siegfried to disguise them, they would pass off as brothers with the other in need of a clinic; I decided to go on above ground while Arno and Felix would handle the rest below.

* * *

While the Assassins had gotten out safely and are heading their way home incognito, Xavier and Lucius were still alive but they were weak and injured. Lucius received slashes on his thigh and forearm—for his luck, it was his right forearm which wasn't really his dominant hand—he has also a nick across his left cheek due to the blade of Octavien's corseque; as for Maximus, he was the one who had the worse wound compared to his own chaperone, clutching his shoulder and his fingertips slightly feeling the opened flesh, his gripped tightly and angrily on Celestine's red scarf. He realized that he has been holding onto it since the Assassins began to run off.

"Master…?" Lucius muttered as he watched the Grandmaster clutch on the scarf and inhale on it.

"I will have her," Maximus said to himself, his voice muffled as he spoke with the scarf covering his nose and mouth.

Lucius kept silent.

"I saw the look in her eyes. How she pleaded me to let go of her!" he cackled.

"The guards are on their way, they'll bring you back to the Sanctuary where you'll be tended to, Grandmaster."

"One day, I will have her away from that worthless Assassin!"

"You're just losing too much blood, Milord."

"I want her, Lucius."

"We all know you want her dead."

"No, you don't understand… I want her…"


	33. Xavier's Child-like Greed

"I want her…"

Those were the words that Xavier released before he could even collapse due to blood loss. Lucius wasn't surprised at all. In fact, he has noticed Xavier's obsession to take Celestine away ever since the enemies met once again back in the catacombs.

But the real question in Lucius's head was:  _What made him want her?_

Lucius called for the carriage as the guards arrived, ordered them to carefully lift him and head out of the room—before he could even step out with them he noticed that the unconscious Maximus dropped Celestine's red scarf so he picked it up for him—then he led them the way out of the Louvre and into his coach. The young Grandmaster was transported to his house—the mansion he inherited in Marais—and Lucius ordered the maids to fetch the Grandmaster's doctor straight into the house.

Guards had carried Xavier all the way to the house when they alighted his carriage and then into his own bedroom.

"Leave us." Lucius ordered them coldly.

He examined Xavier's shoulder wound, blackened blood had lumped and clotted the opening, but then again it is up to the doctor to tend to this—after all, it is the person's expertise.

* * *

The next sequence will be Xavier's consciousness doing the talking, it's his POV but he's asleep in real life.

* * *

**Xavier's POV**

"No, you don't understand… I want her…"

I'm certain that those were the last words I have released from my mouth before I collapse.

Celestine got me good, eh? That cutlass's quality must have been extraordinary. I felt my bones crunch as she chopped me down hard. I must have triggered her anger with my taunting.

The smell of her scarf aroused me, her fragrance was there and even her sweat smelled enticing. As I inhaled her sash, as I closed my eyes… the whole imagery of her flashed before my eyes.

Her hair… the way she looks with her eyes… her voice… those lips…

Why must she allure me so?!

Who knew that a defenseless little girl back in the day… would grow up to be such a woman of skill and of course, charm and beauty?!

She is everything a man would want. I envy that Assassin who has her as his lady.

I want her for myself…

The way her body moves as we duel—it is way too fascinating. I wonder how she moves in bed as well—how does she use that tempting body of hers to a man?

From the first time I laid eyes on her again when we found each other in the catacombs, I never thought that she would appear as so—I must have underestimated this girl, I have told that to myself countless times and when we clashed swords for the first time after several years, I felt her rage flow in her blood and her determination was just unquenchable, she returned to me with vengeance—I was unforgivable in her eyes. But it was impressive for me. I waited for her for years.

Well now, if it can't be helped, I'll continue to live as Grandmaster—her initial plan is to kill me, to avenge her family, to return the merciless image I have burnt into her mind.

_But, my dear, sweet Celestine…_

_As long as I live, I will continue to provoke you. Yet I'll make sure you won't be able to kill me…_

_Not until I have you—you precious little pearl._

I'll make sure that this cycle of duel of ours will never end not until you are in my bedchambers, under my sheets and in my arms.

I woke up from my unconsciousness and smelled something burnt, I looked around but there was no smoke or fire looming around in the house; at the corner of my eye, I found a steel basin, a knife and what it looked like to be some kind of branding iron. I tried to stretch but my left shoulder ached horribly, forgetting that I was struck down at that part, when I took a glance at my tended injury—it was the one that had the burnt scent!

"Ahh, Master, so you're awake." Lucius, leaning by my closet with his arms folded across his chest.

"What did the doctor do to me?! That son of a bitch, it hurts!"

"He cauterized your wound to seal it because the gash was too open—sewing it wouldn't help."

"What about the bone? The bone that her sword hit?"

"The doctor says that the notch on the bone wasn't too deep—it will heal by itself, after all that's how bones work—but he prioritized in sealing your gash."

"So he burnt me alive?!"

"I wouldn't say that, Master. You  _were_  unconscious though."

"I'm still alive by then!"

"Calm down, Xavier. Burning someone alive is very different compared to cauterizing."

I looked around my bed, I found myself naked waist up, bandages covering my left chest and my shoulder, the left side of me aching but there seems to be one thing missing…

"Where is the scarf?" I hissed demandingly.

"In your drawer." Lucius replied coolly, as always.

I sat up, reached out for my drawer's small knob and then pulled it out—the scarf was there!—I snatched it out and sniffed it, thankfully it still has her scent; I wish the fragrance would never fade.

"Master, might I ask…"

"What?"

"What made you pursue the girl so much—in such a way that it doesn't look like vengeance anymore?"

No one has ever asked me that—but of course, they must have questioned it as they saw my actions, especially Lucius. It took me a moment to collect all the answers I have in my mind as I clasp the scarf in my hands.

"Her as a whole."

"Master?"

"Her hair, its fragrance; her eyes, the way she looks at me even though it's filled with hate; her body, how it moves smoothly as we duel; her mouth and tongue, how she releases words at me and how they purse in right in front of me—her lips must be so sweet and tender…" I looked at the scarf again, creases have formed due to my clutch.

I snickered as I imagined her, "She has no idea that she is effortlessly driving me insane!"

Lucius kept quiet, coldly staring at me.

"I know what you are thinking, Lucius—I must be mad."

"Mad and lustful over the girl, I might add."

_She has no idea… that she has grown so beautiful that she makes me insane. Her body will be my own asylum… someday._

* * *

Of course, it  _will really_ take time for Xavier to heal his wound—with the fact that he has been deeply cut and then cauterized severely while he was unconscious. It would take months for him to be able to see combat.

The Assassins have returned to the Café Theatre's mansion safely although there were a few run-ins nonetheless, the injured has gotten home; the intendant called for the maids and demanded a doctor to tend to Siegfried—just so happened that it was the same doctor who handled Adrien.

They brought him to one of the rooms. Compared to Adrien, Siegfried screamed less but hissed more; the doctor dipped a cloth into a basin filled with water—but it wasn't only water that was in there, the doctor poured some translucent antiseptic into the water as well yet it was strong even though it has been mixed with water.

As soon as Siegfried was stripped of his coat and shirt, the wound had dried up, lumps of clotted and blackened blood had curdled together to close the opening of the injury to stop it from bleeding. The maids collected his bloodied clothes and his gloves as well, the doctor cleaned the bloodstained areas of Siegfried's skin and then began wiping the wet scab with the cloth soaked with water and strong antiseptic.

Siegfried flinched as the sensation began to sting and burn, his wrists were pinned down by Octavien and Felix while Celestine grappled his ankles together—who knew that she would pin down someone as sturdy as Siegfried?—as for Arno, he angled Siegfried's body position according to the doctor's instruction in order to properly clean and dress his wound.

The process was tiring for everyone in the room—including the patient—but out of the exhaustion of fighting the restraints, Siegfried fell asleep which should be fine as the doctor finishes the bandages around him.

"The young man would be fine, if you regularly change his bandages; since the wound is still fresh, I recommend change it twice or thrice a day—in a few weeks when the scab has dried, decrease the number of changes by that time, he should be fine. But give him time to recover, he won't be seeing combat for a while now." The doctor.

"We understand,  _dottore._  Thank you for your help." Celestine.

" _Di rien, mademoiselle, monsieur_. Well, I must be on my way now."

As the doctor left the mansion with his payment coming from Mme. Gouze, the four of them watched over Siegfried from the open door of his bedroom.

"We'll take it from here, Celestine, Arno." Felix.

"Alright." Arno.

Arno and Celestine went upstairs and retired to his bedroom. Celestine was the last one to get in and to close the door, as she let go of the doorknob she stayed where she stood and took a deep breath while Arno was already a few steps away from the door.

" _Amore?_  Are you alright?" Arno asks worriedly as he turns around.

"I'm… I'm fine." She muttered, managing a smile.

He walked up to her, cupped her jaw and planted tender kisses on her lips, her cheeks and her forehead—he repeated on the same spots until he stayed put on her lips. Celestine slipped her arms around Arno, clasping onto him tightly until he couldn't control the urge to lift her up with her thighs and bring her to bed.

"It doesn't seem that you're alright." He soothingly cooed.

"I swear I'm alright…"

"Is that right?"

He continued on, thrusting his tongue into her mouth until Celestine herself was responding with her ow tongue; Arno tenderly touched her erogenous zones, nibbling her neck and earlobes while she tilts her head up—permitting him access to her skin—his fingers skillfully unbuttoned her Assassin coat, shed them off of her shoulders and then her waistcoat up to her blouse. With her upper body partially stripped off of her clothes, his hands rustled through and groped her breasts—causing her to release moaning sounds that aroused him so much.

"Arno… My darling…" she whispers lovingly.

It was her turn to play with him; she grabbed the rim of his hood to pull him closer so as to kiss him passionately, while he was distracted with her lips she starts to unbutton him as well—the vest was tricky as it was adorned with a few buckles but it was quickly unfastened.

With the both of them stark naked, Arno teased his lady by licking her thighs down to her calves while she was pinned lying down flat on her back. He noticed her region leaking out, the flesh becoming moist and he grinned greedily as his fingers crawled to her hole; sticking in his finger into her, she arched her back and let out a cry.

"Arno!"

"How does it feel, my precious darling?"

"It feels so perfect… so surreal…"

"You're the one who's perfect," Arno adds as his tongue crawls around her collarbone up to her neck, then to her jawline until his tongue met her lower lip.

They have been making love with each other the whole afternoon, luckily nobody else has disturbed them at all—because nobody dares to do so.

Celestine's legs wrapped around Arno's thighs as he rhythmically thrusts in and out of her, embracing into each other's warmth, exchanging passionate kisses—their tongue slithering around each other's like snakes; Arno's bare hands smoothly gliding on her thighs, her calves, wrapping them around her waist as she arches her back—causing her breasts to dab on his pectorals.

"So warm and so soft…" he panted.

"Arno… Please, more…" she pleaded desirously.

He fiddled with her hair, clutched them into his hands and sniffed them as if it was some kind of ecstasy for him—the fragrance of lilies clung onto her locks, arousing him as the wisp of the scent enters his nostrils—he indulged himself into her, nibbling on her neck as how a ravenous lion gnaws on a tender lamb; her mewls weren't begging him to stop, rather she was asking for more without even the use of words, her fingernails dug into the skin of his back as he goes deeper.

"Ahh…! Arno!" she cried.

"More, Celestine… I want to hear you…" he gasped as he continues his pace.

"Arno… Fill me…" she said the last one faintly that it sounded like she was about to faint.

"What?"

"Fill me up, Arno."

His fingers tapped onto her lips, she teased him by licking his fingertips suggestively; he watched her with eyes of desire and arousal, the gentle movement of her tongue made his blood rush, he pulled closer to her to play her mouth passionately. He did what she wished until they reached the plateau of their sex, both of them let out a cry of pleasure and concluded it with a loving soothing kiss.

As for Xavier, he plays with one of the courtesans he called for; as the woman moans, in the hopes to please her temporary master, he couldn't do it right—not when he sees a vision of Celestine lying down under him, making a tempting face, releasing those arousing sounds from her mouth, calling out his name and pleading him to thrust deeper instead of the ebony-haired concubine in reality.

He pulled out without even having a climax, making the concubine wonder what she has done wrong or dissatisfying.

"My lord?"

"You may rest. I am done for tonight."

He lies down in bed with two courtesans completely naked and coddling up to him under his sheets yet he remains unsatisfied. As soon as the women have woken up, the other one caressed him as she sat on his lap, thinking that he could be swayed so easily like that; he grabbed her by the hair, manually tilted her head upwards to bare her neck which he ravaged greedily—thus, leaving a dark purple bruise on her skin—and then slightly let go of her, invading her mouth as he kissed her although it was without passion, it may be wild but it was out of tenderness, as if he was only doing so to answer his desire which can never be pleased…

_Not unless it was the woman he really wanted._

"You're very welcoming with this, my dear." He growled softly.

"There is no sane woman who would please a handsome master like you, Milord." She replied in the hopes of pleasing him.

 _No sane woman…_  Maximus thought.

Afterwards, his playtime with them was over and allowed them a few hours to lie down with him, the women wrapped their hands all over him as if he was some kind of god while they sleep soundly on his both sides; when they have woken up from their short rest, he sent them out back to the brothel where they came from. He dressed up only with his dress shirt, his wound slightly healed—making him able to move enough to raise his left arm—and then clasped onto the red scarf again.

"I suppose the bodies of courtesans do not interest you anymore, Master?"

"They are nothing compared to Celestine. Their main use is to only suppress the sexual pleasure of men but isn't it ironic that they could not fulfill it?"

"Such is a way of bondwomen. Again with your ramblings about the she-Assassin, Milord?"

"Maybe because you don't understand, Monsieur Blaise."

 _Oh, I do understand, Lord Maximus. I'm afraid I just cannot say the word out loud—because I know you will deny that you love the girl._  Lucius thought to himself.

"Master, you must never underestimate me and my intellect. I am fully aware of your thinking." He chided.

Lucius dismissed himself, the latch's click and the fading sound of his footsteps indicates his absence and the young Templar Grandmaster was alone again.

 _You only call it lust for now because you yearn for her body, because you only visualize her bodily figure and how you use it to please yourself; but what if… should the time come where she is captive in your hold—would you still call it lust when you already have her, when you have already received her body? You don't see her as someone who would suppress only your sexual desire anyway. You want her as a whole._  The attendant thought again as he treaded down the stairs.

"Why… Why did I saw her through that concubine?" Xavier asks himself as he rubs the soft fabric on his cheek until it slid down to his neck—almost felt like she was licking his bare skin which sent chills down his spine.

"Celestine… You're the only one I want. No one else."

* * *

**Celestine's POV**

We did it again…

I woke up and found myself in his room, I looked down and he was using my bosom as his pillow.  _How adorable_.

I adjusted his head because he's slowly crushing my left breast and then I wrapped my arms around his head. I planted a kiss on his hair and he nudged as a response—like a child, as always—and when he woke up, his droopy eyes looked straight at me.

" _Buongiorno_." I cooed.

" _Buongiorno, tesora._  Did you enjoy yesterday?"

"Yes, now I want to take a bath."

"Well the, let's bathe together." He says eagerly.

He abruptly stood up and then pulled me out of bed. For his own convenience, his bathtub was just right there in front of the bed and all he had to do was to wait for it to fill up.

"So, who's going to go in first?"

"I thought you said together?"

"Oh, you really want to?"

"But I… I thought… you said!"

"Oh,  _mi cara_ , you're so adorable."

So we ended up bathing together. In order to fit the two of us in a tub that accommodates only one person, I had to sit on his legs—not that it wasn't much of a problem—but it seems like he was doing this on purpose so he could play with me some more! His wet hands caressed my breasts as he licks my back, my shoulder blades, and my nape while he scrubs my torso.

"Isn't it relaxing when you bathe with your husband?"

I couldn't help but smile at the sound of that.

"Yes, yes it does, my love." I glanced sideways to at least meet his eyes.

We cleaned each other, without any kind of malice, and he let me decide his clothes for him. I buckled the short belts on his vest, I buttoned his coat and linked his hood as well, put on his gauntlets and aligned his fingers within the gloves, fastened his armaments on his forearms and lastly tying and tucking his red scarf in his dress shirt.

"There. All tidy." I smiled at my work.

" _Grazie, mi cara_."

"Now, I'm the one who needs to get dressed."

"But you look nice in a bathrobe—for me."

"No fair! Why are you the only one dressed in Assassin's robes!?"

He chuckled and put his finger on my lips so as to shush me, "I was only joking. Come now, I'll dress you up."

I realized that I'm still naked and only dressed in a velvety bathrobe. He told me to wait in his room and he'll be back shortly; a few minutes later, he returned with a complete set of my robes (I have purchased and upgraded my equipment in the past).

It was his turn to dress me up: buttoning my dress shirt, fastening my armaments, buckling the straps of my vest, putting a fresh red scarf, putting on my Assassin's coat and fastening my belt. Just when I thought he was done, he starts to brush my hair and politely asks me to turn around—he continues to brush then I start to feel his finger playing with my locks until I felt a ribbon tighten on a portion of my hair. Turns out he tied the upper layer of my hair—I shouldn't be surprised because even he ties his own so he must be used to tying it up.

"It's pretty."

"Yes, but you're beautiful—and very enchanting." His thumb ran across my chin as he holds it and then pecked a kiss on the tip of my nose. "How about we take a stroll on the rooftops—like old times?"

"You mean like the same adventure we've always had?" I confirmed excitedly that I sounded like an eager child.

He chuckled and touched my forehead with his own, "Yes, just like always."

"I'd love that!"

He held my hand tightly and we went through his bedroom window, he stepped ahead of me and looked back at me with the warmest smile—the kind of smile that adorns his handsome face that I'm so attracted to, the handsome face that I ended up falling in love with despite his childishness—I caught up with him and we raced against each other as we leaped across gaps, climbed onto walls and slid under planks or crates, shooing away pigeons perched on the rooftops we come around and calling at each other like competitive children bragging on who wins the race.

When we were already on the same roof, I looked back at him—triumphantly and mischievously laughing—but when I took a glimpse of him, he was neither smiling nor laughing, he reaches out his hand to me until I felt a void-like thing was slowly swallowing me—I was unaware that I hadn't looked forward to see the way ahead and fell at the edge—until Arno firmly grabs my arm and pulls me away from my fall. It took me a short moment to register my mind that I was caught right on time, I'm now safe in his arms—I felt his heavy breathing blow on my neck as he tightly keeps me in his embrace.

"I got you… I got you." He panted.

He stepped away to drag us from the edge, I pulled away a little so I could take another glimpse of his face, under the shade of his cowl I saw the scar across his face; I ran my thumb across it and kissed his scar tenderly given the fact that I had to tiptoe in order to reach it. He looked surprised when I pulled away from him.

"I have never asked you where you got your scar. It was the second thing I noticed when I first saw you."

"What was the first thing you noticed from me?"

"Your eyes."

"Remarkable, your eyes were the first thing I paid attention too."

"Nothing else?"

"No." He finishes his sentence with a gentle kiss on my lips.


	34. A Faction of the Past

**Celestine's POV**

We continued free-running across the roof and we later shifted to another type of fun.

When we stopped by a mansion within the district of Vendome, we stalked the rooftop—crouching as low as we can to avoid detection from the sniper I spotted on the balcony—and Arno engaged his Phantom Blade but I held him back and gestured that I want to be the one to kill the sniper via aerial kill.

Just when I was about to leap down, I heard more footsteps coming from the room where the balcony is connected to. I just have to take my chances, perhaps I just need to pull out my blade quickly so that I can rush to my next victim.

_Chk._

Jumped straight down to the sniper with a clean direct kill—and just as I have thought, a swordsman inside the room!—and as swiftly as I can I entered the room and covered my next prey's mouth using the same hand where my armament is attached around my wrist. Less trouble of being locomotive.

A few minutes after reassuring that he's already dead, Arno followed my lead and even avoided detection from the guards on the ground level.

"Well, that's some… tact."

I chuckled, "Can't decide a right word for it?"

"The word 'skill' is cliché."

We looted them and then pocketed them until I spotted another one examining and peeping through a keyhole of a strongbox…

_Wait, he didn't notice his other companions getting killed? That's one stupid bastard right there._

Before he could even turn his head to us, see the carnage and react I released a Phantom Blade at the blink of his eye—the projectile landed straight into his forehead and I chuckled at the funny sight of a dead man with a blade stuck on his head.

_So what if I have sadistic humor?_

I didn't bother to retrieve my blade anymore and then Arno and I examined the strongbox.

"What do you think is special inside?" I ask.

"Only one way to find out." Arno.

"So who's a better locksmith?"

"Let me give it a try."

He bent down, fished for a lockpick and the hook, he carefully tries to budge into each latch (there were three of them); I stayed quiet and observed him as he manages to click on every single latch—he got to the second one pretty quick and then he finished the third one at a single blink.

"Tell me, which of each latch is the trickiest, Arno?"

"It varies, depending on my concentration."

"I see."

He lifted the lid open and then the strongbox contained a pearled bracelet and necklace—that happens to be a pairing—the other contents were parcel packages so we left them alone.

"Do you think these are convincing for the merchant?"

"Of course it will," I smirked.

We left the house through the nearest open window right next to the chest, we descended to the ground by safely landing on a haystack—we landed in the  _same_  haystack.

"Who goes out first?" I asked in a whisper, trying not to scare the townsfolk close to the hay.

"Ladies first." He chuckled playfully.

And I brushed my way out of the haystack, shrugging off the tiny straws of hay that clumped onto my coat and I took a few steps to the left for Arno to get out—he did the same thing I did when I got out of the stack.

"Now, should we find a merchant?" I giddily queried.

"Let's." he did that smirk that somehow made my lower abdomen feel strange that it made me smile like an idiot.

I tagged along behind him while walking I mentally recall that smirk on his face just a few minutes ago and every time I think about it I close my eye shut just to try to take it out of me but it's difficult.

"Celestine?" he called out and I suddenly opened my eyes.

"Hm?"

He grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly, "You alright? You were behind me."

"Oh, sorry…"

"Please just stay right next to me— _never behind me._ "

I nodded to reassure him and then we walked our way casually to the nearest merchant and sold the pearls we found in the chest. He accepted our price of 400 livres on the necklace and 250 on the bracelet—not that we're picky about the price or anything.

"Arno…?"

"Yes?"

"I… I want to see the Pantheon if that's alright with you."

"You speak like a shy little girl. Why are you so flustered lately?"

"Nothing."

"Are you sure?" he leaned closer to me that the tips of our noses touch.

I tried my best not to look so flustered, I swallowed the nervous lump lodged in my throat and nodded as an answer. He held my hand again and tugged me so I attempted to keep myself at the same pace as he is and then he started to climb on a wall—to which I am obliged to climb as well and follow him which is no problem at all and then we scanned our surroundings on the top to find the fastest route to the Pantheon district.

"Celestine!" Arno called out, realizing that he's ahead of me—he's just waving his hand, gesturing me to get there.

"Arno, wait!"

I caught up with him, carefully taking my steps as I jump so that I won't do the same mistake I did when I looked back at him without knowing what's ahead of me. When I was one building away from him, I saw him already reaching his hand out to me—yes, I wanted to grab hold of him so I hastily made my way on that rooftop between us.

Gasping for the last air before I could even leap, I have already taken hold of his arm—my forearm crossing with his and my grasp is already on his elbow—and he pulls me in away from the edge before the heel of my boots slip off and become the cause of my fall. We both tumbled together on the dust of the roof and felt each other's heavy breathing on each other's necks. I felt his chest shaking and when I pulled up to look at his face he was laughing.

_What the fuck just happened to him?_

"Arno, you're laughing like an insane idiot." I sarcastically remarked.

"Seeing you so worked up and determined to make long jumps is just so adorable—lighten up, you're the one who initiated the idea to go Pantheon for a stroll." He replies.

I leaned down to kiss him long and hard, my tongue even made its way into his mouth and he welcomed it; before I could even lose control, I pulled away and sat up—he did the same.

"Are we heading out yet?"

"Yes, let's go. Keep up with me, alright, Celestine?"

I nodded and the two of us dashed away—roof after roof, swung bar after bar, passed through an open window we can find to get to the other side conveniently—until we finally found ourselves close to the dome itself.

"Where should we head first? The dome or the plaza?" I ask, examining the surroundings under our feet.

"Anywhere you want, my dear."

"Is it safe if we pass by the guards' camp?"

"If we're not too suspicious."

"What's so suspicious about two Assassins together?"

"Nothing at all."

I looked past the houses and apartments, focused on the mansion that is right next to the square occupied by the National Guard used as their training ground and at the same time their base; I concentrated on the base itself and see if there are any parts where the two of us can safely explore without those suspecting looks.

"You won't be able to see that far, my little falcon." Arno takes me by the hand and then brings us closer to the mansion and the base camp.

Then I wondered…

_With Xavier and that wound I have inflicted on him, how long will it take to heal completely for him to battle again?_

_How many hideouts does he have across Paris? Is the Pantheon one of them too?_

_Will it even reach the New Year? It's only a couple of months before the last month of the year arrives._

_Could it be that it'll be a matter of time?_

When I shook off those thoughts and ponderings in my head, I kept my pace up with Arno so that we're free-running side by side; suddenly and strangely, I sensed a commotion up ahead in the direction that we're heading so I told Arno to descend to the ground with me.

"Celestine! What's going on?"

"Something's up! Come on!"

Coming from the distance as I close in on the scene, I saw a flash of red.

_Another mob?_

While Arno and I run, we have already brandished our swords and interfered with the extremist mobs.

"More revolutionary bastards!" one of the guards howled.

I blocked an incoming attack from a brute who was about to cut down one of the rebels—who seems to be badly cut at the leg—I greeted the surprised brute with a welcoming but sarcastic smirk and pushed him away as I picked the fight.

I saw Arno on the other side of the mob, skillfully wielding sword and Hidden Blade together at the same time and so I had fewer worries for him and then continued with my own side of the fight. Stealing the pike from the very hands of the lancer, I supposed I must have scarred some rebels who saw me impaling the enemy with his very own weapon when he was coming straight at me—the head of the pike practically went  _straight through_  from his front to his backside.

When the last of the loyalists were still standing—he received the most brutal butchery because Arno and I teamed up against him: the two of us began sprinting up towards the enemy who was taking advantage to another helpless fighter, Arno had disarmed the loyalist by severing his sword hand and continued to stab him on the right side of his ribcage with his Hidden Blade, and then I made an uppercut jab to the underside of his face using my Hidden Blade hand, and again just like what happened to my side of the fight earlier, the rebel witnessed this in front of his very own eyes. I have to be honest, pulling out my armament worried me because I must have lodged the blade hard into this man's skull—to the fact that I care less of the gore and my Hidden Blade mattering the most instead of the blood that tainted my robes. I tilted my head up to give myself a breather and then my hood fell off, but I cared less; I approached Arno to have the mechanism of my armament checked—see if I had unhinged something that shouldn't be when I deeply stabbed the dead bastard.

"Arno, do you think my blade's alright?" I casually asked him, showing him my Hidden Blade smothered and dripping with blood.

"Err… yes, it's alright—fortunately, the wheel and the cog isn't dislodged." He replied awkwardly as if he's squeamish with the blood that's drenched on me.

Before I could even forget, I turned to the rebel that we helped—just to make sure that he wasn't overly traumatized by what he has seen.

"I'm sorry, I hope that the stunt we did didn't scare you too much, I—"

I was cut off and surprised to meet again one of the fighters I used to team with  the pact before I came to the Brotherhood.

"Cesaro?" I gasped.

"Celestine," he made a gentle welcoming smile, "I see that you haven't changed—especially your bloodlust."

Cesaro is one of the fighters I used to work with when I still belonged to their faction, they were also the ones I teamed up with months ago in Marais during that time where Cesaro and his troops were agitated by the duelists after insulting them as peasants and street vermin, I was one of their party of scouts and I was also one of their swordsmen—as far as I can remember, I helped out Arno there when he intervened in the faction duel and he was still a stranger to me back then; wow, how time really flies.

Coming from the side, the other rebels recognized me as well and they began to murmur my name and phrases such as "She's an Assassin?", "Who knew?", "She's the daughter of an Assassin as well," and lastly, "She fights like one—she was bound to be one after all."

"Who are these people?" Arno whispers as he bent a little forward close to my ear.

"They're the rebels I used to fight with—before the Brotherhood," I replied.

I took a glance at him because I noticed that he was breathing unusually heavy—it's not the type of heavy breathing he would do when he's exhausted—I turned around to fully face him only to find him clutching on his right arm.

"You idiot, why didn't you tell me you were bleeding?!"

"Just a scratch…"

"Scratches don't leave out blood spread all over your sleeve, Arno!"

"Err… Heh, Celestine dearest, you can stay in our safehouse for now. It's just a short walk from here." Cesaro.

" _Merci._ "

* * *

They made their walking route safely through the district, Cesaro led the way and Arno was in pretty bad shape to do any sort of climbing just so he can stay away from the sight of the duelists. Cesaro led the troop and divided them into several parts of the district—his orders were to clear out the way of each street that they are going to pass according to the route that he has in mind for Celestine and Arno to get to the safehouse as they tag along with him.

While the couple tailed Cesaro, Arno was interrogating Celestine about her past affiliation.

"How long have you been with them before you came into the Brotherhood?" Arno.

"Well, ever since my teenage years—I told you that story before, didn't I?"

"Yes, but you never told me about further details."

"Well, you have it now."

"Has he always been the leader of the gang?"

"For this division, yes."

"Of course, there ought to be more for each district."

Celestine planted a tender kiss on Arno's forehead, wiped the sweat off of his brow with her sleeve as they continued to tail behind Cesaro, he held tightly around her shoulder for support and so far they haven't encountered a single duelist—they may have gained a little sympathy from the National Guards who passed by them (in the first place, Cesaro never ordered his scouts to eliminate them hence it would cause them trouble which would take them longer to get to the safehouse and have Arno fixed) and Celestine may have gotten anxious, so tempted to turn back to check if those guards have taken either suspicion or sympathy for their apathetic disguise she tried her best to not so much give a side glance to them; she noticed that Arno's arm may have gotten numb and heavy for him because he was barely moving it.

"We're almost there," Cesaro reassured.

Celestine nodded as a response and a few turns of the road they arrived at a modest bar which she recognizes very well—she used to stay there too.

" _Ey,_ Cesaro, is my room still there?" she jokingly asks when they have stepped into the bar.

"Yes, you two may occupy that for now while we tend to his wound."

"No, no, I'll tend his wound.  _I know his body better than any of you do_."

Cesaro boomed out a throaty chortle given that her statement was vulgar but he found it amusing—but realistically, it's true. He was beginning to welcome the couple into the bar where it was swarming with rebels in their usual house clothes which is a very convincing disguise if they lose the holster and sheaths.

"Come sit down for a while and let the housekeepers ready the spare room for you." Cesaro.

"Nobody took my room?"

"Well, there are some rebels who have their own houses, some rent inns and we only use your room for medical purposes."

"How convenient and coincidental." She smirks. "Then it stank of blood and pus?"

"Oh dear no! No, no, no! We made sure that we always clean it because the Master really ordered us to clean it after every patient has been discharged."

"Master?" Celestine muttered under her breath while she supports Arno, all sweaty.

"Let me help you with some drinks."

"No, no, that's fine… I just need some tending and some dressing…" Arno muttered wearily.

Before Cesaro would even accommodate Arno and Celestine, the boss of the bar made his appearance.

"Cesaro! You brought in people without my acknowledgment?"

"You don't understand, sir, it's Celestine—her companion is wounded, he needs his injury to be dressed immediately."

 _Celestine…?_  The master of the house muttered under his breath.

The master of the bar, concealed within the shadows of the dimness of the second floor, took steps leading to the top of the stairs—with each footstep that gives a loud thud of his boots on the floorboards, the light of the lamps on the metal brackets gradually reveals his face. It is as though with every step he takes, it matches the racing of Celestine's anxious heartbeat—she doesn't even know why is she getting so worked up about, she had dealt with several intimidating bar owners before, what could go wrong with this one amongst the others she had met before?

The master's face finally unveiled from the dimness of his own bar and safehouse just when he was halfway down the staircase, the light of the bar's lanterns showed him.

_A fairly tall man…_

_Black hair kept short and neat…_

_Light brown eyes with the light of the fire burning in his irises…_

_A light stubble growth on his chin, jawline, and ends to the bottom tip of his sideburns._

_His complexion like that of an Italian noble._

Celestine abruptly stood up that the feet of the chair she's sitting on creaked against the wooden floor with her fists fully clenched, caught the attention of the bar patrons and the master wordlessly acknowledged; she slightly shook her head—somehow not believing what she is currently seeing with her own two eyes—and she took herself a little while to register everything from mind to mouth as she feels tears begin to well up under her lids.

"Alessio?" she choked.

"Celestine," he replied.

"I can't believe it—you're still alive."

"It seems that your _ra_ _gazzo_  is badly wounded, shall we bring him to a room?"

" _My room._  Wherever he goes, I go as well."

"Such devotion. Does it remind you of anything?"

"No." she replied bitterly with full conviction, accompanied with a slight shake of her head.

Alessio was silent and he called for his housekeepers to ready the spare room and also medical supplies, Celestine insisted that she's the one to tend Arno's wounds and the servants obeyed her request so they left the supplies with her—she was unconfident with the servants because they were barmaids. She has already filled the basin with lukewarm water and then put some drops of the topical medicine.

The two of them went inside—leaving the door open—and she watched Arno get comfortable with the bed.

"I'm sorry if my old room isn't that comfortable compared to the one in the mansion."

"No, it's fine—it's temporary and we need someplace to rest instead of struggling in the streets."

Indeed, both of them were worked up with the skirmish but it was Arno who needed so much attention especially from Celestine. She takes off her coat and then begins to help him with his own coat, she unbuttons his shirt and loosened his belt so he can breathe comfortably.

"Let's take a look now." She says as she takes off his shirt to check the injury.

Semi-solid bubbles clotted the outer lining of the wound, it saved Arno some blood but for only a little while and it demanded to be tended immediately; she immediately dipped the rag into the filled basin and clean his wound, while doing so he was looking around her once-humble dwelling.

"So, this was your room, huh?"

"Yeah, it was never spacious anyway—it was exclusively only for me because it was so small even up to now."

"About the bar master… Alessio, was it?"

"What about him?" she has sort of slowed down in her work of taking care of Arno's wound.

"Was he the same Alessio you told me about months ago?"

She stopped wiping the dried out blood off his wound, clenching the rag nervously and took a deep breath.

"Yes, he is."

"You didn't tell me he was part of your rebellion."

"That's because he never was."

The tone of her voice changed from benign to firm and steely, then continued to do her medical work.

"Then mind telling me how he got to be the master of this bar?"

"I… I don't know." She sighed sadly, "I have always thought that he was in Italy—with the wench he married. After that final letter, I thought he had learned to love her—not just because she and her family sustained his family's business but because of… natural tendencies. I actually thought they had children."

"Do you still love him?"

"No… I lost that feeling for him long ago."

"Do you love me?"

She smiled, "Of course. Very much."

Arno toyed with the loose locks of her hair and brushed them behind her ear, planting a kiss on her forehead to make her feel better and then she continued to tend to him.

Outside the bedroom (the door was open), Alessio overheard Celestine, he processed everything he said and he wanted to tell her that majority of what she said isn't true; yes, he did stay in Italy ever since but he never loved his betrothed, let alone they never had children at all! He went downstairs and pretended that he didn't overhear her at all. He went to the bar counter and asked for his usual drink from the bartender and asked for a second glass for the guest—he was referring to Arno.

"Is it too tight?" Celestine.

"No, the binding is fine." Arno.

" _Altro?_ "

"No,  _grazie, mi cara._ "

Alessio casually knocked on the frame of the door, acting as if he heard nothing at all just a while ago.

" _Mi scusi?_  Am I interrupting?" Alessio.

"No, not at all." Arno.

"Well, can you still stomach a drink or two, Arno?"

"Of course." He stands up.

"At least put your shirt back on, Arno." Celestine.

Arno chuckles and obeys her, he takes his shirt from her and leans forward to kiss her long and hard—right in front of Alessio. Obviously, it was awkward.

As soon as he wore his shirt, he tagged along with Alessio downstairs to the bar—leaving Celestine alone in her old bedroom which gave her time to collect her medical supplies and put them away while the boys are downstairs.

* * *

**Arno's POV**

Alessio and I sat down at the bar while his bartender accommodates the patrons, he and I were having some drinks and I got to admit his choice was nice.

"Have you always known how to speak Italian, Arno? Or did Celestine teach you?"

"Actually, she taught me. She lent me some books we had in our library, she talks to me in Italian often and I would ask for the translation and she would lecture me some more phrases and words."

"How long have you been together?"

"It's been months now."

"I see."

Alessio clinked his glass on the counter, lifting it at just a small centimeter away from the wooden surface and then carefully dropping it while he supports it with a loose clutch of his hand; I knew it's my turn to start the conversation.

"Since when did you get to the rebellion?"

"Just recently—say, two months ago. Did Celestine tell you about me?"

_I have a feeling he must have overheard her a while ago._

"Yes, she told me about when you two were young."

"Oh… heh, that story. Did she include the part about the letters?"

"Yes, she did. She even thought you had children with your new wife."

"Rubbish. I never even loved that woman, I can't even call her my wife."

"Celestine told me it was an arranged marriage."

"Indeed it was, it was a heavy burden for me—not just for me and my parents. I wanted to come back, to escape and to fulfill her promise until the wench threatened me; my family was relying on me and I couldn't decline that. But they're gone now, it was just me and her."

"I'm sure she would have understood."

"But I was afraid that I might lose her—she may have understood but it might drive her away from me, therefore failing to keep my promise. I left and broke her heart—do I have enough reason to convince her?"

_Would she? I mean, would she hear him out and understand? If she did, would she still drift away from him?_

"How did you get here to Paris, Alessio?"

"By many ways. I escaped the wench, took whatever money I had left for myself, rented a horse to get to the border and then hiked all the way here to the city; I strived, worked—I had experience anyway—and eventually ended up with them. When the original owner of this shack died, he passed down the responsibility to me—because the old man had no son, rest his soul, and I was the only one he had left. The rest of his tenants weren't that… reliable."

"I see."

"You know, some of my patrons here are Assassins."

"Really now?"

"That is why I recognize those hoods anywhere—including hers."

"Have you always known, Alessio?"

"Have always known what?"

"That someday she would be an Assassin?"

"Yes. Given the fact that she was born and raised by an Assassin couple, how can it be unlikely? Besides, I've seen the way she acts and moves—quite aggressive, almost masculine and also assertive. She even—heh—fights like a boy."

I can't help but chuckle because it's true anyway, we made a toast with our glasses together and chugged the liquor.

"This is nice. What is it?"

"Moscato."

I savored the taste of the new liquor in my mouth, the alcohol doesn't sting at all and it's just the right mildness; without the sting of the alcohol, anyone can taste the sweetness of the drink. Maybe the mansion has this as well?

"Arno…"

"Hmn?"

"Have you two ever done it?"

_Does he mean sex? I have to honest, right?_

"Yes, we have. Twice or thrice now." I replied.

"You're a lucky man. Treasure her."

"You don't have to tell me that."

He smirked as he stares at the bottom of his empty glass.

"I have always thought she was worth it… but I failed her. I should have been more of the man she expected me to be."

* * *

The boys had no idea that Celestine was listening to their conversation the whole time, she was sitting by the railings of the second floor as she listens to them.  _She heard every single thing that her past and present exchanged_.

Her heart sank after she listened to Alessio's side of the story. She was having mixed emotions, she never even knew that that happened to him during his stay in Italy; most of the assumptions were wrong—such as Alessio having children and naturally learning to love his wife—but either way, she can't bring the past now.

"Everything's over. The damage has been done." She muttered to herself as the sound of Arno and Alessio's glasses hit the surface of the bar.

_Alessio… you were right…_

_You have failed me._

_You made me wait for so long only to find out that you have been forcibly married to someone else—you could have written to me weeks before your engagement. So I stopped… I stopped hoping, I stopped waiting and moreover, I stopped loving you because I thought that she might have been more beautiful and richer for that matter because you said her family was to sustain you._

_Well shit._

_I don't want to sound so demanding but why didn't he? Why didn't he man up? Jaysus, men sometimes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITALIAN:
> 
> Ragazzo – boyfriend
> 
> Altro? – Do you need anything else?
> 
> Mi scusi? – Excuse me?


	35. Head in the Clouds

The boys didn't let themselves get too drunk, before Arno could even start to feel tipsy he retired upstairs in his shared bedroom with Celestine; when he entered, he found her in her shirt and breeches, her boots were put aside by the foot of the cheap wooden wardrobe, her back at him whilst she gazes at the streets under the evening shade through her open window.

"Celestine?"

She glances to the side, "Arno…"

"Everything alright?"

"Yes…"

Even when it's really not after everything she has heard from downstairs, she tries her best to pretend that she didn't hear them at all. He walks up to her and gently places his hands on her arms, she sniffed lightly and the scent of Moscato was still fresh in his mouth.

"Moscato…" she muttered.

"What?"

"Moscato—how was it?" she smiled.

"How did you—?"

"It's a common drink amongst Italians—even the neighboring countries and states like it."

"I see, it's the flavor that entices the taste buds." He fiddles with the necklace he gave her, still glimmering silver like the stained glass windows of Notre Dame. "So you've always worn it?"

"I made sure it was underneath my shirt to avoid having it pulled away from my neck."

"From thieves?"

"Not only them but tittering women as well. This is a rather pretty object for them to brag with should they take it out of my neck."

She glances at the window again—Arno joined in as well—they can see the life even underneath the night: the merchants doing one last run in selling, the citizens carrying their torches to light their way home through the poorly-lit annexes, the shops, mansions and cafes lighting up the candles of their lanterns and chandeliers, and the distant silhouettes of the families in their bedrooms tucking their children to sleep. Upon seeing the sight of a mother and father saying their good night to their child, it struck down to Celestine's heavy heart and caused her to slip away from Arno's arms and then sulked in their bed—her  _old_ bed that only fits one person but that was no problem with the two of them anyway.

"Celestine?" Arno worriedly asks but got no answer, "Is everything fine?"

"Yes, I'm just tired. Very tired." She uttered faintly as she sat down and stared on the creaky floorboards.

He kneels down to level his face with hers, caresses her cheek and hair to soothe her.

"I don't think so,  _mi cara._ "

"There's no denying that, hmm?"

"What's wrong?"

"I heard everything…" she said that in a lower volume of her voice when Arno's eyebrows pulled together and he asked her to say it again she said in a rather satisfactory volume.

"Oh, I see, so you heard my conversation with Alessio."

"Yes… I did."

"And?"

"Alessio's got a point throughout the entire conversation."

Arno knew well to understand that simple sentence. He sat down next to her, put his arm around her so he could pull her in closer to embrace her warmly and she gladly welcomed his hold; while the both of them keep each other warm, the flickering of the candlelight goes here and there until the two of them blanketed themselves under one sheet and exchanged words before going to bed. Arno noticed that Celestine was eyeing on the family she saw a while ago and then brought up the topic of family.

"Celestine, were you always an only child?"

"Well… Unfortunately, Mother had a miscarriage when I was ten—the three of us were expecting a little boy. During her pregnancy, I would always lay beside her and look at her stomach, imagining how things would go if my brother was out in the world. I even wondered if he would go play swords with me or would he rather fancy riding instead."

"He would have fancied both, as long as his sister is there to guide him."

"How about you, Arno?"

"Always have been. In truth, I fancied a younger sibling myself but…"

"But what?"

"I think that Mother and Father were all right with just one."

"Arno…?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you want a child with me? Be honest with me."

At first Celestine was very reluctant to say it despite the factual number of times they have did it in bed but it was a serious matter for her—she wasn't sure about Arno if he felt the same, she was never certain if he wanted a family with her or would he want it with some other woman, she never knew at all up until now. The way Arno's face projected right in front of her made her heart race; and she did her best in concealing her nervous rapid breathing, preparing herself for the burden of the answer she dreads instead of the answer she hopes for, she examines Arno's face expression closely—reading and determining him as much as she can just like how she decodes riddles and navigate a map—then her fist clenched and put it closer to her chest which was beginning to ache not out of pain or heartbreak but out of sheer anxiety of the unexpected.

"Yes, of course, I would love to have children with you."

Of course she also knew Arno's ways in dealing with women (because evidently enough she has heard that intel from the other Assassins—she doesn't just swing around with Arno, Octavien, Siegfried and Felix), part of her says that she shouldn't think that she was that special and that he was a charming swindler of women's emotions. On the other hand, the second part of her says that she must believe what he said and that it was not out of some kind of reluctance. This was the first time she was in such a muddle of things—which she admittedly brought to herself—and her trembling hands were the evidence.

"Hey, are you alright?"

"Are you telling the truth?" her volume was faint again.

"What? Have you forgotten the promise I gave you when I wore that necklace around your neck?"

* * *

**Celestine's POV**

_Oh… so he was serious after all, huh?_

_What was I actually questioning his honesty?! Merda…_

"No… I haven't forgotten." I muttered.

I remember very well—it's almost like a lucid dream when in fact it was a memory and it was very clear to me, so clear that I can even retrace from the downstairs up to my bedroom. That night when I kept my hopes up because I'm so head over heels for this Assassin.

"See? You honestly thought I was lying?"

"Yes I did. I was afraid that I might end up with another Alessio…"

_As you ended up with another Elise._

I wanted to tell him that sentence running in the back of my head but I knew that it might make things much worse, though I swore to myself that I would never bring it up ever again because he and I were going along very well; I was only testing but that does not count as a valid excuse to question him.

"Honestly, Celestine, how could you think of such things?"

"Maybe because I'm afraid to be left behind again. So I had to prepare myself for the worst—again for the second time." I choked.

"Oh, Celestine."

"I'm sorry." I sighed.

He kissed my forehead and then on my eyes, "I understand, no need to be sorry."

_Is he really sure to marry me? With the ring and everything…_

"In fact, I have always dreamed of raising a family with you because I was confident that you will say yes when I propose to you, I'm confident that you will marry me—we'll have children and live in Italy or Versailles—but I figured that we have to finish our business first with Maximus and his chaperone; what if you get pregnant while those two are still alive? We have to eliminate them first because I can't risk my wife and child to be under the danger of an existing Templar Grandmaster."

I chuckled and gently pressed my first three fingers on his lips, "Shh, you talk too much sometimes."

He pressed his lips on the paddings of my fingertips whilst his eyes were having that suggestive glint while he looks at me, I melted at the sight of his tongue playing on my fingers while he effortlessly makes those eyes at me.

"Why are you fumbling, my darling?" he smirks.

"I don't think now's not the time to play games, Arno." I tried to put that serious air with him.

"Really now?"

_He's at it again!_

"What about your wound?"

"It's getting better allowing me to move more freely."

He inches himself closer to me, his hands crawling down on my arms and his lips planting on my collarbones; he begins to prop himself up to reach more regions of my body such as the base of my neck, my shoulders, and my bosom, nibbling my earlobes and licking the curved cartilage of my ear—he was playful again… and I was beginning to love it.

No! He's supposed to heal first before being too suggestive!

My fists clench in resistance, my head turned to the side as he toys with me and then he sits back up and I met his eyes.

"Let's continue this when we're finally home." He smiles adorably.

"You idiot! You were just teasing me!" I thumped my knuckles against his sturdy square shoulders.

He chuckled and he kissed me tenderly on my cheek, lying down next to me again and tucking us in one blanket.

He later fell asleep, besides the smell of the medicine I put on his wound was rather nauseating that you can only forget about the stench in your sleep. I played with his hair and stole a kiss on his forehead as he sleeps adorably—I always love how he sleeps.

* * *

As Celestine falls asleep a few minutes after Arno did, Alessio was doing the regular checking of the rooms—when he was done with the rest of his comrades, Arno and Celestine's bedroom was up next and as he gently opens the door producing a light squeak of the old hinges, he found the girl he once loved turned to the door—to him—sleeping soundly as her Assassin embraces her from behind. The faint orange light illuminated the smile on her face, so beautiful even in her sleep that Alessio remains mesmerized of her unfaltering allure.

Just at the sight of her sleeping peacefully, he smiles to himself and then followed by a frown shortly afterward.

"Good night, you two." He bids them in a whisper and then closes the door.

Two more bedrooms to check and he was all done—everyone is asleep and resting very well—he goes downstairs and then sees himself to the bar, finding his bartender cleaning up after himself.

"Pietro, why don't you go get some rest? You deserve it after a long day." Alessio kindly dismisses.

"Oh thank you, sir, but I have to see to the customers."

"No matter, I'll handle them. I insist. I'll do the cleaning myself as well."

"You're very kind, sir,  _molto grazie._ "

" _Prego._ "

As the bartender retired upstairs to one of the shared bedrooms of the bar, Alessio helped himself with a bottle of Chianti while accommodating the customers. Majority of his staff that he housed were Italians—he somehow made it a refuge for them because he was once a nomad when he got to Paris and so he decided to return the favor for charity—the Assassins he spoke of were temporary lodgers but yet they were also regular patrons so they left when they were sure that they're healed and well—of course some of them took a hearty drink before heading out. As he accommodates the bar patrons, he accommodates himself as well, exchanging conversations between the men sitting by the bar—he knew most of them—and sharing good laughs, it was an ordinary night for the shack.

He stayed up until closing time, giving himself some few more drinks before going to bed—he had high tolerance anyway as he says so himself—but while drowning himself in one of his finest (and favorite) wines, he remembers through the sight of the smile of the sleeping Celestine; from her smile, he remembers the very first fragmented bit of memory he has of her—the way her eyes twinkle, her chime of her laughter whether it's the softest of her giggles or the boisterous chortle which he finds adorable of her, the curvature of her smile, the way her hair sways in the air as she twirls around to face them while she happily frolics; it's the heavenly sight of an angel for him (in a state like that of his), he was still sober but he was at the verge of drunkenness. He called it a night and then went to his own bedroom, his head swirling with the effect of too much Chianti and recalling memories.

The next morning, just a few minutes after daybreak, Alessio and some of the fighters were already awake; their first line of duty was to ready the food for the others, Arno and Celestine included, so before opening the shop for the customers they started with themselves first. They made do with some simpler but heart Italian meals and then the lodgers started to dig in, Alessio called for Cesaro to wake up the couple so they could join in the meal.

Cesaro politely knocked on the door and Arno—already fully dressed back into his Assassin coat—answered, "I hope you don't mind,  _signor_ , but  _Messer_  Alessio calls for the both of you for a meal."

"Is that so?  _Va bene,_  I'll get her ready—she's still asleep."

" _Va bene._  I'll see you both downstairs then."

As Cesaro left, Arno closed the door quietly and then walked up to Celestine, still asleep and warm under the blanket, he waited for her to wake up as he pets her hair; from underneath the floorboards, he could hear the small commotion of the lodgers from downstairs, the clatter of the tableware and their indistinct voices calling on each other. He began to wonder if Celestine would want to join them, knowing that she wasn't much used to eating together with a big group unless it's with their Brothers but since they were her previous troops, she's bound to adjust to them.

She wakes up, finds Arno sitting by her side on the bed, as she sits up and rubs her eyes she greets him with a gentle kiss on his head—slightly startling him.

" _Buongiorno, mi colomba._ " She greets with the raspy sleepy tone she still has.

" _Buongiorno_." He greets back with a smile.

"What's going on downstairs?"

"Ah, the lodgers are taking their breakfast."

"Then the shop is open now?"

"Not exactly. I think they're supposed to take their fill first before opening."

 _Majority of the people housed and working in here are Italians…_   _Who are they to him? I only know a few of them because I fought with them during skirmishes but who are the new faces?_ Celestine thought to herself.

"It's pretty much like back home, eh, Arno?"

"Yes, but compared to numbers, we're a bigger lot."

"Indeed, given that some of us prefer to take their fill at home, too."

She gets out of bed to put on her coat, washes her face and then ties her hair into the usual braid she does; when the clamor from downstairs softened, she and Arno went down to claim their share of the food—they were surprised to see the food served for them along with the others:  _giovane_ ,  _anacardo, bollito misto_  and  _arrosto misto_. The sight of the meal made their stomachs rumble and so they took their own hearty fill as well which was beyond satisfying, after her meal, Celestine snatched a  _mela_  from the tray of fruits and then leaned against the window sill watching over the passersby through the slightly-hazy window—her hood was down, her braid resting on her shoulder down to her breast and her eyes focused on the daily cycle outside the tavern.

"What's your head doing in the clouds so early, hmm?" Arno.

"Oh, nothing—I forgot the last time I looked through a window to take a view." Celestine.

One of the boarders who is working as a sweeper for this morning passed by them and then opened the doors and drew the curtains (the windows where Celestine and Arno are standing by don't have any), the sweeper was rather a young boy—perhaps fifteen—and then he put aside his broom to take the rod used to light the lamps; Celestine and Arno's mouths curved up to smiles, being fond of the young lad working so hard and energetically in a calm breezy morning.

"You can take your morning walk,  _mademoiselle_ ,  _monsieur_. Mornings like these give a good view of the river and the harbor." The lad remarked to them cheerfully, apparently noticing that the two Assassins have been keeping an eye on him.

"Is that so?" Celestine chuckled.

" _Oui!_ "

"You're a rather jittery lad, what's your name?"

"Friedrich,  _mademoiselle._ "

"Friedrich, I'll keep that in mind. If anyone searches for us, tell them we followed your advice, alright?"

"I will!"

Arno and Celestine casually took a morning stroll, practically blending in with the citizens and the river was just nearby the  _taverna_ so they walked by the concrete fence and took a glimpse of the busy-bodied workers by the harbor, the small boats anchored by the shore of the river, the cargo that's being carried out by the sailors for trade—but the first thing that caught Celestine's eye was the light shining on the ripples of the water.

"How's your arm, Arno?"

"It's starting to itch now but I'm trying to resist it."

"I think we should get back there to change your bandages."

"Maybe later, I'm enjoying this serene morning with you. I hope I get to see mornings like these when we're finally married." He smiles in a carefree manner.

* * *

**Celestine's POV**

_"_ _When we're finally married._ "

Those words echoed in my mind and a vibration rung through my skin, it's like how a tuning fork would ring if you put it right next to you ear and give that tingling sensation travelling through you.

Does he really mean it?

But, I like the idea… I like it very much.

He did say last night that we could live in Italy if that's what I wish. Of course, my home country would be nice but I like it here in France too—perhaps Arno won't allow for our child to grow up without knowing his or her goofy uncles, I'm referring to our three Brothers.

But would he also allow our child to grow up undergoing training to be an Assassin? Like how my parents did so? Technically, both of us are Assassins so… is it mandatory? No, that sounds like a strong word… Customary? Traditional? Natural?

If he wished to have a child who will have a normal life, a normal childhood, then he would have wanted marriage from another, wouldn't he?

_I wonder, if he ended up with Elise—who is practically a Templar—whose path will the child follow? Or will that child be the bringer of balance and peace between Assassin and Templar—will that be expected of him because he is a spawn of both Assassin and Templar? Then what pressure the child will withhold as he grows, not knowing which path of the crossroad he will take._

_What would become of the child I am to bear someday?_

"Arno, where would you prefer to live? Italy or France?"

"This is regarding our future family, isn't it?"

"I'll be direct—yes."

"Well, that depends on you, my dear. I'm all right with either."

"The idea of raising a family…" I muttered under my breath.

We noticed straight ahead some children selling scraps of coal, wood and parchment—whatever they can to get a piece of food—but what struck my heart more was a little girl selling fish in a rusty pail which I figured she got some stock from the harbor's cargo but there was a normal-sized piece of cloth to cover the top from flies and that she would only lift it up to show the fish to the people passing by her. I got a good look at her—tanned skin due to so much exposure to the harsh afternoon sun, her face was etched with grease and sweat probably caused by whatever odd jobs she's taken just to get a bite, her clothes are tattered and sewn with mismatching patches of different cloths, her hair was curly but matted so she kept it tied up.  _The poor thing…_

Obviously it was hopeless in her case because the people prefer to buy from the sailors and vendors but not from her; I couldn't help it, I let myself get behind Arno as I dug some coins from my pouch—I wanted to make sure it was more than enough than how much her sale of fish could amount to overall—I got three hundred livres from my pouch (I have more than enough anyway); I approached her, knelt down to her level so we can see each other eye-to-eye, at first she was startled and shy hoping that I would buy from her.

"W-Would you like some… F-fish,  _madame_? It's clean, I swear! Fresh from the harbor even!"

I chuckled and smiled at her, impressed by her technique of trade but instead, "Hold out your hand."

"What for,  _mademoiselle_?"

"Well, do you have a family?"

"I… I have my mother."

"Well, you two must be very hungry and tired."

"Yes,  _mademoiselle._ "

"Then hold out your hand."

At first she was hesitant to obey me but when I reassured her that everything would be fine, then I carefully placed the three hundred livres on the cloth she uses as a cover—I did in front of her so her eyes widened in amazement of seeing so much amount of money, probably she's already thinking what to buy for herself—and then gave her one of the handkerchiefs I looted from the extremists the other day when Arno got injured to replace the covering.

"But let's keep it a secret, alright? Keep this safe for you and your mother."

"Yes, I will!"

"What's your name?"

"Antoinette!"

"Oh, Antoinette, what a pretty name. Promise me you'll keep our secret?"

"Yes!  _Merci, Mademoiselle! Merci!_ "

She happily skitters off, never minding the fish she has and keeping a close eye—and hand—at her money. I stood up watching her scamper away, brushing past Arno—who kindly gave way for her, I caught a little smile curving up in his face—and then turned to me.

"You're very good with children." Arno comments.

"Really now?"

"First with the sweeper lad back in the bar and now her. You're quite the motherly character—even towards our Brothers."

"I thought I was more of a sister to them."

"Well, yes… But, I have to say," he pauses.

I turned to him curiously, "Huh?"

"You'd make a wonderful mother to my children."

I can't help but blush. My cheeks are flushing out their color and I felt my arms shaking nervously! That sentence sent chills down my spine—but it's the good kind of chills down the spine!

"What's gotten in your head to think that?"

"I've seen how your compassion works with those young ones. Your kindness to them, your consideration."

"I just… try to live up to the example of my mother—being a caring woman and all that."

"You're doing a very good job."

He took my hand and calmed down my sudden nervousness and then continued our morning stroll. We made sure that we'd take the route near the bar for easy traveling, I still have to change this big slug's bandages because his wound is beginning to itch—that's good, it's at the verge of healing.

Our stroll was short but it was nice. When was the last time he and I got a time off like this?

When we arrived back in the  _taverna,_ I noticed that there were Assassins—and I recognized two of them belonged to Adrien's scout troop, these were Henry and Louis—I approached them at the bar and they were pretty startled with my approach.

"Celestine?! Arno!? Where were you two!? You've been gone for two days already!" Henry.

"Isn't it normal for Assassins to take two straight days of work?" I retorted with a raised eyebrow.

"You know you could've done a better approach to us, Celestine, besides sneaking up on us and make our hearts stop." Louis.

"I thought that that was the best way there is."

They both groaned with hilarious awkward expressions, to ease them up I patted their shoulders at the same time, "At ease, I was only joking. How's home?"

"We're doing well, although the troop is trying their best in digging up the rounds in search for more leads."

"And you two?"

"Adrien sent us in this district. We're just—how do I say this?—taking a break."

"Since you've taken your break, I believe that you two would do your tasked rounds afterwards?" Arno.

"Y-Yes, sir!" both of them responded in unison.

"Good."

"Come on now, don't be so hard on those two." I added.

"I wouldn't want them getting out of here drunk."

"You sure are fatherly."

"What?"

"I said you sure are fatherly, you make them behave as if they're children." I chuckled.

"Then that makes us a perfect match."

"We still have work to do, Arno. Come on, upstairs you go. I still have to change those bandages."

I fetched a new basin of water and the same rag—which happens to be laundered already—and Arno took off his coat and shirt, he also untied the knot of his bindings, revealing that his wound has already formed into a thick scab and won't be needing any wraps anymore. It's best to keep a scab open rather than wrapped shut for it to heal quicker. I only rinsed it with little amount of medicine to quicken the recovery span of the scab and then put on his shirt again, my eyes wandered for a bit and noticed small light cut scars on his chest, I ran my fingers across them to feel if they're still bumpy or not.

"Is something wrong,  _amore?_ "

"No, nothing. It's just that… those little nicks."

"Ahh, these, they're nothing serious. See how they've healed well?"

"Yes, I can see that." I smile then kiss his cheek.

I buttoned his shirt, then his vest and finally handed out his coat for him. Suddenly, we were gazing at each other's eyes until we heard the muffled sound of clamor and steel coming from outside.

"Are you able to hold your sword again?"

"Yes."

We abruptly went outside our bedroom, the staff and the fighters were acting serious. Most of them were dashing left and right, they were all rushing downstairs and most of them had their weapons ready. I leaned by the banister of the second floor's hall and called at Cesaro.

"What's going on?!"

"Templar scum outside! They think they can ransack the place without putting up a fight? They're going to get it!"

I turned to Arno, "Come on! We have to help."

"Let's go!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITALIAN:
> 
> Giovane – (young) wine
> 
> Anacardo – cashews
> 
> Arrosto misto – assortment of roasted meats usually lamb, veal and pork
> 
> Bollito misto – various meats boiled and served with a selection of sauces
> 
> Mela – apple


	36. Blood Shed Too Soon

**Celestine's POV**

Heading out the tavern, we found the skirmish about a few feet away from the tavern's back door—because that's where we got through following the fighters, Cesaro included—we saw that there was a lot of enemy fighters and they were outnumbered.

Cesaro's faction brandished their weapons—pikes, swords and even axes—and charged towards the extremists. At times like these, you cannot always afford the luxury of keeping an eye on everyone in your side no matter how much you wanted to make sure they're alive—that's what I learned when I still lived with them—everyone's on their own unless you're at a lucky distance wherein you can save a skin or two but that's a miracle for the saved particular fellow. Do you want to know what kept me alive during skirmishes when I'm still here? My bloodlust and brutality comes first before my compassion towards comrades; it's occasional of me to save skins of my friends. No one will blame you if a comrade dies unless it was really your responsibility to keep them alive but I did not take advantage of that principle. I admit I was obliged to protect some of them and I did my task but I don't always get appointed with those because they knew I prefer to fight without any burden laid out on me. Yes, it's cruel and unfair—you could almost say it's inhumane of me—but that's the way it is unless you can change the course of the world and the laws of humans. You'd have to be ethereal or godly to do so, but unfortunately, we're just mortals.

Even in the middle of the battle, I sometimes wonder if this is the cycle of the Assassins versus the Templars—will it ever change at all, I wonder.

Well, if it meant suppressing my sadistic ways then I'm fine with it—as long as I can get rid of these reds.

Arno and I charged towards them—tailing behind Cesaro's group—and killed the ones who were about to stab our friends at the back.  _Pssh, men do not strike at the back, that's cowardice._

Quickly, I loaded my Phantom Blade, and in succession shot the three of the reds directly coming straight at me, they must have been thinking that they got me cornered but they were dead wrong. Literally. In my peripheral vision, I spotted Arno taking a dead lancer's spear and using it as a secondary weapon to block the two swordsmen—one of which I guessed to be a bomber as well—and when they had him at their advantage, one was coming for him from behind; hysterical I was, I drew out my pistol as I sprint towards them and blew a bullet hole into the nape of the swordsman behind Arno, before he could even turn around to catch a glimpse of his savior, I finished the two others at the same time right in front of him with my Hidden Blade. He flashed a smirk at me as a way of his thanks and I returned the gesture and we continued on with the fight.

Amidst the chaos, for me it felt like I'm torn between protecting two things—Arno or the faction—some were faltering already and being taken advantage of, the only resolve I had was to gun them down but reloading the magazine of my pistol took some precious time; I know that Arno can take care of himself but at a thick run-in like this? It's unlikely. If only our Brothers were here. I spotted Henry and Louis helping out, I guess that gives us a boost in the fight but we have to make the most of it—moreover, they should survive, I don't want to report to Adrien about two of his men died during a thick skirmish. His temper might scare Juliette—yes, I know of their affair, they're already official with my granted consent.

Continuously striking down enemies, I bumped into someone's back and I actually thought it was Arno.

"Well, you finally got within my radius!" I retorted.

"What? Worried about me?"

_I felt my soul sink to my feet. That's not Arno's voice. That's…_

I glanced to the side only to find Alessio back-to-back with me, he's also looking back with those calm eyes as if he's not in the midst of fighting. I swear I saw a smirk appear in his face.

"Never knew you could fight," I commented while swinging my sword at the incoming extremists.

"I had to learn." I heard a gunshot coming from him.

"Good, then I suppose you won't be needing my help."

"Are you detaching from me?"

"I don't recall being obliged to protect you. We're on our own here, Alessio—surely, you must have figured that out before. Rules of the faction?"

"Yes, but it's customary to save a skin of a comrade."

"I prefer the word "appropriate" but you're right about that one thing."

I did detach from him, I'm not supposed to revolve him around myself. One sniper was aiming at me straight in the face but he could even pull his trigger, I pulled my own at him; kicking and sweeping them off their feet is very beneficial especially if you want to make good use of your body other than just swinging your arms with weapons in hand. Sending my boot to an extremist's face felt good, I felt their jaws and noses break once on contact with the sole of my shoe. Luckily I wore my greaves so that gave me the upper hand in killing them more easily directly after a good kick or an upper leg sweep.

I heard Cesaro's boisterous roaring to his men, he's never changed has he? Even though he's in his late thirties, he's still that energetically booming yet he's encouraging them and he would never allow his men to fall into low spirits hence death will impend on them; I found myself in the part of the battle where there were a lot of brutes hurdling it, so I took one of the dead ones' axes and swung it around—chopping and shattering their shinbones like brittle lumber. Yes, I can swing an axe—I am not that as vulnerable as a woman you thought I am, I'm an Assassin for Chrissake! Running to retrieve the borrowed axe, I continued to get rid of them but my targets were the stronger ones; with axe and gun in my hand, it almost feels like I'm invincible. Just when I was beginning to enjoy myself, one of the rebels barked out.

"National Guards are coming!"

"But there are more reds coming from the east street!" another barked.

_Fuck! This isn't good!_

"Assassins! Bring out the smoke!" I barked out as the National Guards and the extremists surrounded us.

They knew what I exactly meant. I expected to hear four bombs—Arno, Henry, Louis and I throwing out the smoke bombs—to explode on contact and see them hiss out smoke but I heard three more hissing out, therefore the fog thickened. I didn't have the time and luxury to know who threw out a second or third bomb from each of them but I kept myself optimistic by eliminating more than enough enemies from both parties in a cloud this thick. The befuddled guards and extremists were coughing, pressing their sleeves against their noses to avoid inhalation and as much as we can struck them down with our Hidden Blades; I heard several clicks and stabbing sounds from each other and it brought a nice ring into my ears. When the clouds dispersed, I was startled to see Siegfried, Octavien and Felix joining in! I found myself laughing with the little surprise they pulled up.

"You sneaky assholes!" I laughed.

"What? You think you two are going to have all the fun?" Siegfried cheekily remarked.

Five more were coming at us—three guards and two reds—and we each gunned them one by one. It was pretty epic to look at.

"How'd you know?" I holstered my pistol back and casually asked as if I didn't shot down someone.

"Heard you've been doing some work for two days straight." Felix.

"Well, you were out of sight during those two days." Octavien.

"Sorry, had a little problem." Arno.

"Another wounded arm, Arno?" Octavien.

"No, 'tis but a scratch." I joked.

Our little chaos scared some of the citizens but this was nothing new to them, I think… Is it new for Parisians to witness three parties of enemies charge towards a small faction with Assassins and have an enemy casualty count of around… 20? I would say it's normal… Right?

Our joking moment ended upon seeing the casual of our faction. I looked around and there were even women fighters. Overall the entire faction, roughly a third were dead. Some were fatally injured, they were at the point of succumbing to their wounds, should we ever attempt to bind their wounds it's still hopeless. It's better to accept it than try to fight it, after all, death is a sly and elusive beast. The bodies of our comrades were in a medley with the enemies but they were easily identified, with the broad daylight under us, the color of their clothes helped us determine who is who. While I still have some of my strength left after battling so much, I helped the others in finding survivors and retrieving the dead.

There was one that made my heart sank very heavily.

"Friedrich?!"

By the look of his wound, it seems that he must have been struck with a sword and huge bruises formed on his arms and his shoulders (I saw it through the rips of his shirt)—he must have been battered before getting stabbed.

"Miss Celestine…"

That happy hardworking lad was also a rebel fighter? How and why? A boy his age shouldn't be fighting in battles like these!

"How was your morning walk?" he engages.

I began to cry, "You had your whole life ahead of you, why choose this?"

"I wanted to protect the people I hold most dear, these people… even if it meant exchanging my life for theirs."

"You're a good man."

"Heh… You know what, Miss? You're the only person who called me a man… most of them call me still a boy…" he chokes, "But I thank you for that. I'm happy."

"Don't get me started with that, Friedrich! Come on, I'll help you!"

"No need, Miss. I feel lighter… and very peaceful. It must be nice up there. But thank you for seeing to me at my last minute…"

I saw more of his blood ooze out of his fatal wound as he attempts to take it out of his body, my stomach churned at the sight of the sword being taken out of him with his own hands; as he throws it aside with the steel clattering on the cobblestone road, he coughs out blood and a stream of red hung on the edge of his mouth and that was the last of him.

" _Resquiescat in pace,_ young man."

I closed his eyes and gently laid him to rest. I stood up and tried to look for more survivors until I found someone I never ever expected to be dying—Alessio.

I run up to him—out of impulse—and propped up his head carefully as if I was holding an infant instead of a fully grown man. I examined his entire body, wounds all over his body, he looked like he's bathed himself in blood—I suppose I'm exaggerating—he was bleeding on his left temple and his clothes were stained and when I finally took a good look, he was shot at the stomach.

"Alessio? Alessio! Snap out of it!" I whined.

"Heh, everything will be alright." He faintly says, almost a whisper.

"Don't worry, we can bring you back home!" I insisted.

"No… I don't think we can make it. I don't think  _I_ can make it."

"Don't say that!"

"At least…" he struggles to collect enough breath to continue talking, "I get to see you again…"

"Alessio?"

The light in his eyes almost fading, I can see it, I found a teardrop fall to his cheek to which his eyelids jerked in response.  _My own teardrops…_

"Celestine, I missed you so. Don't cry…"

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry for everything, Alessio."

"Don't be…" he gasps, it's almost overbearing for him but also for me, "I'm glad… I'm really glad that you're here."

"Will you please stop speaking rubbish?" I whimpered, tears falling down my eyes.

"At least, I died the way how I wanted… in your arms… no matter how unlikely this scenario is. Then I'm happy and I can sleep in peace."

"A-Alessio…?" I choked.

He chuckled weakly in response, I saw his hand reach up, his limp fingers touching my cheek lightly. I remember the last time he did that to me. For the very last time, I saw him smile but his eyes were fluttering already and his cold hand suddenly went lifeless, I heard him release one last soft sigh of his breath as he passes away in my arms.

I closed his eyes, caressed his cheek and kissed his forehead, "Sleep tight, my dear. I pray you're in peace."

* * *

**Arno's POV**

I watched her comfort the dying, starting from that sweeper lad we just talked to this morning before all this mess and then her past lover, Alessio who has now passed peacefully.

"I've never seen her this… vulnerable before." Siegfried comments in a whispering manner.

"So do I." Felix.

"Enough chatter, we have to help retrieve the dead," I told them.

Few of the fighters gathered a couple of horse-driven carts and then collected the dead rebels in the first cart and then the guards and extremists share the second cart; perhaps the faction does not want their dead to be burned in the same fire as the ones who killed their comrades.

"Is that the last of them?" Octavien says, stuffing and tossing the corpse of a National Guard into the cart.

"No, wait," I told him as I kept my eyes on Celestine, he noticed me focusing on one direction and then looked as well.

She carried Friedrich, the cheerful young lad, and carefully placed him on the cart filled with the corpses of fighters and then she returned to the corpse of Alessio. I wasn't thinking that she'd be able to carry him the way she did with Friedrich but I was startled to see her lifting up Alessio's body, putting his arm around her shoulder and supporting it on her shoulder as if she was holding up a drunken man and helping him walk. Cesaro abruptly run up to her and took the trouble of carrying their deceased leader instead.

"Hey, Arno," Octavien.

"Hm?"

"Who was that? That dead man she carried last?"

"The faction's leader and… her past lover."

"I see."

"But who was the little boy she carried first?" Siegfried.

"A sweeper."

"She had compassion for a sweeper boy?" Octavien.

"You don't seem to get it—she has compassion despite her sadistic nature."

When the collection was over even before we could attract more attention and get more troublesome, the fighters who brought in the carts hurriedly rode the coaches to bring them to the place where they could cremate their dead.

"You don't bury them?" Felix.

"Ahh, it's too much work but on a more sensible note, we don't have enough spaces for cemetery burial so instead we cremate them properly." Cesaro.

"Where's Celestine?" I asked Cesaro.

"She went with the cremation. She wanted to make sure that Friedrich and Alessio have a proper burial."

"Why would she do that?" Felix.

"You see, Celestine is sadistic, you young men probably have known that?"

"Yes." We said in unison.

"But despite that attitude of her, she still has a soft spot towards the people she befriends and the people dear to her; so if one of the people close to her dies, she becomes vulnerable and mute, you can barely talk to her for days—that is because she's coping hard. She even has a way with children, they like her even before she ended up living with you young men, the children looked up to her as big sister—so she earned the reputation of being good with them. She cannot resist children, she loves them as much as they love her. It's a natural charm she has towards the young ones, that is why she cannot stand ignoring the sweeper boy."

_So that's why she was like that towards the peddler girl from earlier. She has this aura towards them that somehow attracts them to her._

"Brother, do you think Maximus has got anything to do with this?" Siegfried.

"What makes you think that?"

"I mean, look at the succession of the arrival of the extremists and even the National Guards—remember that majority of the patrols are under his influence."

"You do have a point. But Xavier is weak, she struck him down badly."

"Well, that won't stop him in barking orders, right? Could it be that he knew that she is affiliated with them?"

_Has Xavier been keeping an eye on Celestine?_

As we got to the tavern, it was very different compared to these past days before this devastation happened upon the faction. I looked around the bar to see if she's already here but she was nowhere to be found—I checked upstairs and still not here. I wonder where she could be. Is she still in the cremation? I hope she comes back soon before dark.

"So, who's going to be the new leader now?" I asked Cesaro.

"Since I am  _Messer_ Alessio's right-hand man, then I suppose I'll be in charge of the house now." It's obvious that he doesn't sound too happy with his new assignment because in the first place, what's there to be happy about?

"Will you continue Alessio's welcoming of refugees?"

"Of course I will." He manages a kind smile as he helps me with another glass of whiskey, "I'll take full responsibility."

"For Alessio." I made a toast with him.

"For  _Messer_ Alessio." He clinked the bottle of whiskey with my glass.

After that, the tavern was awfully and unusually quiet, I took the opportunity of knowing the stats of the Brotherhood while we were gone—I suppose nothing bad happened these past two days without us.

"So, how's home?" I asked my Brothers.

"We're doing fine. Adrien divided his patrol according to the districts to find openings to the underground." Felix.

"So I've heard—from Louis and Henry."

"They left with our permission, it was time to do their rounds." Siegfried.

"I should have thanked them for their help earlier."

"They understand."

"By the way, thank you—the three of you—without you, we would have been badly struck down back there."

"It's no problem." Siegfried.

"How did you know we were here? In the Pantheon district?"

"Through our Brothers staying by the clubhouses."

"I see."

* * *

Meanwhile, as Celestine joined the two horsemen bringing the carts of corpses, she accompanied them with the burning; they started with a big bunch of hay, lighting it up with several matches and when the fire rose they began throwing the guards and extremists first.

"What about the comrades?" Celestine.

"We start a new fire, using different stock such as wood."

"Like those?" she nodded at the pile of old wood and she retrieved it even before the fighters would even respond.

She volunteered to start the fire as she piled them altogether, scratching several matchsticks against the rough surface and throwing them to the firewood at once; she took out the tarp that covered the top of the cart and started burning the bodies. The last two bodies to be cremated were Friedrich and Alessio. She knew that the two fighters with her were watching but she didn't mind them.

When they made sure that they have burned all of them, she politely asked if she could drive the other cart instead and they accepted her request, thanking them afterwards and driving their way back home. She parked the cart at the side of the bar, along with the others, and then entered the bar last.

"Celestine!" Arno runs up to her and hugged her, "Oh thank God, you're alright."

"Of course, I'm alright."

Arno knew of her coping, "Come on, let's get you to bed. You must be tired."

"And your arm?"

"I'm doing all right."

He tucked her in bed right after cleaning her, he felt like he was tending to a child rather than his  _ragazza_ ; when she's already dressed up for sleeping, she immediately slunk on her bed and slept soundly. Arno caressed her hair and kissed her good night on the cheek. He rejoined his Brothers at the bar.

"Are you two going home yet?" Octavien.

"Perhaps tomorrow, we'll make sure it's in the day."

"Alright then, we'll be expecting you."

The three left the tavern and when it was time for the bar to close a few hours later, Arno himself retired upstairs to the bedroom. He didn't bother changing clothes, he just took off his gauntlets and boots, washed his face and crawled into bed embracing Celestine—hoping that his simple sweet gesture might make her feel better in a way.


	37. A Toll Too Heavy to Deal

Daybreak.

Celestine woke up very early. By the time the rooster crows at the sight of the sunrise, she opens her sleepy eyes and adjusts her body in bed as she felt Arno's arms secured around her waist. She sits up with a heavy heart—as if the emotional toll of yesterday was enough of a burden to bind to oneself—her entire body felt numb and weighted because of the exhaustion she experienced upon the fighting and the carrying of the corpses.

Today, she wasn't her true self.

Before, she used to enjoy the feeling of the sunlight shining through the window and dipping her feet into the rays pooled on the cranky floorboards—now she is irritated at the slightest creak of the nails and jerks her heel away from the thin lining of light as if it would roast her skin; she puts on her dress shirt and trousers, straps in her greaves and buckles her bootstraps but leaves her coat hung on the rack then goes for the basin of water settled on the top of the drawer—fortunately, the water was new and clean—and she didn't bother fixing her hair into an elaborate braid.

She didn't even turn to the side just so she can savor Arno's embrace in bed before sitting up and getting off. It was something she usually does whenever they sleep together in the same bed.

She sat down again on the bed by Arno's side, watching him sleep peacefully after that exhausting day, but Celestine herself is much more exhausted—double Arno's own tiredness. For once, she felt numb and almost emotionless to the point that she can't feel anything which sort of scared her for some reason.

She buried her face in her hands, breathed through the thin gaps between her fingers as her shoulders and back heaved with every sigh. She stood up and quietly left the room, unbeknownst to her Arno has already awakened but he didn't say a word and kept still to pretend that he was still sleeping—he watched her leave the room, not even turning back to gently close the door to assure that she will him undisturbed but no, she just closed the door not turning back and the thumps of her boots faded step by step from the creaky hallways to the stairs.

"His death is too much of a toll for her." He tells himself and then gets out of bed.

Celestine, despite her emotional burden, she managed to prepare Arno some breakfast with whatever she can find in the bar but if ever she cannot find anything decent to serve—she'll just have to rush to a marketplace or a merchant who sells… clean food.

"Celestine? What are you doing?" Cesaro.

"Just food for Arno—I normally do this for him." Celestine.

"Quite the good wife." He cracks.

She cracks out a stifled chuckle, "Oh, no… I don't actually…"

"Child, I know a potential wife for a good man when I see one."

She smiles politely and continues to prepare breakfast. It was the exact same routine she does in the mansion, the only problem is that it's not as abundant in food in the tavern since there are workers and refugees living there. In herself, she was a little dissatisfied because she couldn't serve Arno the sumptuous meals she serves to him daily as a surprise once he wakes up—she has only served a moderate mug of Moscato, a slice of buttered bread, a slice of cheese and a plate of beef with its own sauce from the stew but she consoled herself thinking that this would be enough for his fill.

She climbs up the stairs and carefully opens the door, she finds Arno waking up and rubbing his eyes. She sets down the tray of breakfast she readied for him, walks up to him and strokes his forehead.

" _Buongiorno, tesoro._ " She coos as she kisses his head.

" _Buongiorno…_ "

"How was your rest?"

"Peaceful."

"I brought you some food."

"You didn't have to bother, Celestine. Did you eat before you did that?"

She shook her head as she pursed her lips in, Arno clicked his tongue as if he was mildly reprimanding a small child. He immediately notices her different body language and takes her by the wrist, his thumb runs across the skin of her hand and he gently pulls her to him, he grabs her waist and pulls her down making her sit on his lap. He secures her at the small of her back and he looks at her deeply with empathy—while she pretends that she's clueless that he's aware of what she's going through right now.

"Celestine, I know you're not fine. I can tell. But that doesn't mean you have to keep it all to yourself—you don't have to carry a burden so heavy your whole life."

Her eyes widened, her heart leaped and her grip on his broad shoulders shook nervously. Now she doesn't know what to say next, she was actually expecting Arno to be jealous but it's actually illogical and immature to be jealous of someone who is deceased just because that person is your girlfriend's previous lover.

"I know you're sad over Alessio's death and you and I both know there is nothing we can do about it, the least we can do is accept it, no matter how painful it is—I think you know that I've been there, right? I fully understand that you love him—I suppose I couldn't take over the place he has in your heart and I can't do anything else but accept that." He smiled heartily and brushed her hair behind her ear, "Oh, Celestine… You're such a precious little girl. Never have I ever met a woman love someone so truly and purely; I'm so glad that I get to feel it and that—"

She cut him off with her thumb touching his lower lip and goes for a kiss, in between kisses she can't help but giggle and when she pulled away, she was smiling, "You talk too much, darling."

She leans forward, buries her face on his broad shoulders and wrings his neck gently with her skinny arms, she encloses him in her embrace; the smell of his undershirt entered her nostrils and she coddled him as she rests her cheek on his chest like a sleepy infant. Her fingers twirl on his ponytail, her fingernails carefully rake his scalp and he tightens her hold around her waist.

"Are we going home yet?" Celestine mutters.

"We're going home today. Our brothers are waiting for us."

"But eat first, you're going to need all the energy for today."

"I'll eat this if you eat with me. It's not healthy if you starve yourself."

"Is it still self-starvation if I call it fasting?"

Arno sighs, "Yes, it is. Come on now."

They shared the meal that Celestine herself readied, Arno halved the entire meal evenly for himself and his beloved Celestine—they had their fill together and afterward they got ready, got dressed and wore their armaments. Cesaro gave them one last drink—a sendoff gift for the couple—before they left the tavern.

"Something for the road." Cesaro winked as he was taking care of the bar.

" _Grazie, mi amico._  We are forever grateful for your help." Arno.

"It is no problem! You are welcome here anytime." He gestures his arms open.

The couple bowed at their friend and left the tavern. They raced in the stone streets of Paris and scaled the wall of a house just right across, they're not surprised with the reactions of the startled citizens anymore and crawled on the wall like spiders; skillfully and carefully, they perched and clutched onto whatever handhold and foothold that is within their reach.

"Ready?" Arno.

She nodded and the girl smiles.

They got to the rooftop and raced each other on who gets to the safehouse first—it was the only therapy that Celestine needed, her body yearned for the breathe of fresh air on the rooftops of Paris, her eyes craved for the sight of the eagle flying way above their heads as they cut through the wind and her legs missed the feeling of flying as she makes every single leap count. Her laugh and whooping echoed up to the heavens as she makes one big jump across a gap. The rubble clattered underneath her boots as she makes her landing, her soles scraped the dust as she accelerates herself again and right by her side was Arno in the same exhilaration as she—they jumped and scaled in perfect synch and rhythm until they saw the dome of the mansion.

"We're close to home."

They weren't far from the mansion, they continued free-running across the town, but they weren't left out of the fun when they ran into certain aristocratic mansions that were full of red extremists—and so they decided in taking down the snipers stationed on the roofs where they are as well by ramming towards the clueless gunners and then stabbing them at the neck before they could even shout out a word to alarm everyone. Celestine's style of a running kill is lethal yet graceful: it looks as though she quickly brushed past her victim with her blade-arm outstretched to slice open the neck or cut across the face reaching the eye and then the wind causes the tails of her coat to billow lightly as if an angel's skirt, her proud smirk shows as she is satisfied with her successfully quiet kill and she leads on, leaving a trail of blood spewing out of her victim's gaping slash and never to be seen again.

"How many gunners did you take down, Arno?" Celestine huffed, rejoining Arno at another vantage point on another mansion's roof.

Arno got smug and he smirked at her, "Four. And you,  _mi cara_?"

Celestine smirked back, thinking that his arrogance might bring him to a loss, "Six. I made sure of the ones in the terraces."

Arno rolled his eyes comically, not admitting to a defeat to his own girlfriend and so he lost his smug look. Celestine boasted of her victory and she patted Arno's back, then he took the small of her chin and tilted up to kiss her tenderly—and just right behind them is the trail of blood and gunner carcasses lying at their feet. Little did they know that in just a few meters at their right, a surviving sniper on the same spot where they stand has cocked his rifle right in front of the couple; it was awkward as the gunner looked terrified as his hand shook at the barrel and handle of his long gun. Arno and Celestine pulled away from their kiss, their eyes turned to the side acknowledging the shivering gunner at their far side—both snuck at quick look in the eye at each other, as if telepathically communicating with one another and remarkably they knew what they were thinking. The gunner was thinking of shooting Arno initially, because it troubled his soul to shoot down a woman—regardless if she is an Assassin.

"Don't do anything stupid! Or I'll shoot both of you!" the gunner braved.

Both Assassins smirked but they didn't turn their heads to the side to look at this scrawny sniper with a gun pointed at them. It never threatened them anyway—the enemy had the littlest idea that right in front of him were skilled and experienced mercenaries who can shoot and slash him right open before he could even squeeze the trigger—and they smirked at each other, Celestine bowed her head and her forehead touched onto Arno's chest. Sniper assumed that his targets were surrendering but he kept the grip on his gun firm in case that this was bluff and quick as light…  _fwip!_

The sound of a thin, murderous blade cut through the air and then another twin sound followed, both landed on the same target: the sniper and his flesh. Two Phantom Blades from two Assassins. Celestine got him at the neck so as to silence him and deprive him of the remaining ability for him to speak whilst Arno got him straight at the heart, breaking through the flesh and marrow, stealing away whatever strength is left to even utter a single loud grunt to call on his comrades. The gunner had underestimated them and the bluff worked—it only came out as a second guess for the poor bastard.

Celestine and Arno had skillfully bent down the moment the sniper pulled the trigger, they spun gracefully away from the line of fire—the bullet cutting through the gap between the Assassins and blowing a faint fleeting wisp of air in their ears—and they offensively returned fire with their own Phantom Blades and their targets were coordinated impressively well with Celestine going for the center of the throat to avoid any vocal response and Arno aiming for the heart for a direct and quick kill. They watched their victim fumble poorly—he was coughing up blood, flooding out of his mouth while he weakly reaches out for the Phantom Blade stuck in his throat but things got worse when a small nudge of the blade on the flesh deepened and opened the gash, causing more blood to fountain out of his neck not knowing whether to cough some more to futilely help himself from the suffocating feeling of losing so much blood in a speeding span of time or let the fluid flush out of his body through the opening and coat his arms as he caught it with his cupped hands.

"Warm, isn't it?" Celestine even managed to ask that to the dying gunner.

"Damn…" the gunner gurgled, blood bubbling and filling in his mouth, "You…"

It was a morbid sight… but not for them. They're seasoned for so many years to see this and get used to it until it became a regular thing on a daily basis. As for Celestine, she cannot find a hint of remorse for a Templar or an extremist.

Before leaving the carcass for the worms, rats, and flies to swarm on, they walked up to the body only to retrieve their Phantom Blades.

"The nearest merchant is three-hundred meters in the west, it's best if we save up and reuse our supplies," Arno suggests while wiping off the blood on his blade by wiping it against the only clean part of the gunner's garments.

"Which part of the body has more blood in it when slashed with a blade—the back of the leg or the joint between the upper arm and the forearm?" Celestine suddenly asks, sounding like a curious child for a sadistic question.

"Not now, Celestine." he groans and goes to descend the mansion against its walls.

Celestine chuckles and she follows.

* * *

**Celestine's POV**

We were almost to the mansion but why do I feel like I am having a bad feeling as we come closer to the district? I can already hear the faint tolling of the bells of the small rowboats anchored by the shore of the river of  _Ile de la Cité_ but we continued on, as I looked up I noticed that the seagulls were unusually numerous today—from my vantage point I looked at the far horizon of the sky, they were swarming and circling in one area yet I can tell that they're nearby the mansion's perimeter.

 _Something's really not right…_  my mind echoed and I shuddered at the thought.

"Celestine? Is something the matter?"

" _Non, non, tout va bien_."

"I don't think so. Tell me what's wrong." He insists.

I pointed at the sky where the gulls are flocked all together and I got the feeling that he sensed the same hunch that I had the moment I saw those birds.

"Arno, those birds are flocked above near the mansion."

"We have to hurry."

From the quick but leisurely pace, we darted across the neighborhood above the roofs and heads of the Parisians, rushing towards the mansion and even skipping the other roofs just to get to a shortcut to home but with every step and jump that we take the tension rises. My heart heaved as we neared to the mansion, not only did we hear the squawking of the gulls but the growing noise of the clamoring of the citizens—but in my hearing the one I hear the most were gasping and screaming of women—I urged Arno to catch up when I realized that I have been running ahead of the trail as I anxiously went for the direction of the mansion; I knew that I was anticipating for something—whether it resulted my gut to be wrong or not. I wanted closure on this minor problem.

We arrived at the bridge connecting  _Cité_  and  _Ile de la Cité_  and we saw the people clustering together at the corner of the Café Theatre where the horse was usually tethered but when Arno and I went closer to the scene of clamor, I saw a pile of Assassin scouts and a few rogues in black garments strewn on the pavement—the pools of their blood mixed together becoming discolored from red to a blackish-maroon hue, flies swarming and dabbing on their noses and partially-opened mouths, the rotten stench of the corpses were beginning to fill the air it was so strong that Arno and I had to cover our noses with our collars or sleeves as we walk towards them. Examining the scene of the fight, I even spotted some of the scouts' Hidden Blades were broken at the mechanism cog and the blade's runway; their swords were blotted with blackened blood and the bodies were cut open by the swords in different parts be it the neck, the stomach, the heart… anywhere, as long as it's a sure bloody kill.

The Café Theatre's windows are shuttered tight and the door seems to be locked down tight to ensure the safety of the establishment. I noticed that the horse I got back then was gone, I could not even hear its whinny so I guessed that it must have been stolen from the surviving rogues of this skirmish but that doesn't matter anymore to me. What matters right now is this picture of murder lying down right in front of me.

I recognized few of the Assassins, some belonged to Adrien's patrol—the ones who I come with whenever we go do our rounds in the catacombs with the constant hopeful search of Xavier's hideout—while the others were intermediates already.

"Too young…" I mumbled as I scan my surroundings.

But that's not all that I have seen today…

"Celestine!" Arno called out, the sound of horror was distinct in his voice which made me worry more.

I walked towards where Arno stood, pushing my way through the spectators, what I saw were three pikes standing on makeshift bases (sacks of soil or sand) and to my horror, on top of those pikes were the severed heads of Henry, Louis and another scout named Marius. My lip was trembling, my heart rose up to my throat and I suddenly lost my ability to scream or utter at least an incoherent sound—all I could hear is the wheezing sound of my voice struggling to escape my mouth. Tears welled up at the edges of my eyes and fell down continuously in streams and that is where my voice came back but only to grant me the will to scream out loud in horror.

That horrifying instance where you come home only to find that your Brothers who you just spent your time with yesterday were murdered and severed, with their heads stuck at the end of the pitchfork as if they were something to adorn the streets… it disgusted and infuriated me. Only cowards have this kind of motive and this kind of style of peacocking their kills regardless if they lost some of their men in the middle of the fight.

"No!" I wailed at the sight of their heads, that was the only word I could voice out—nothing more, nothing less.

Their eyes… lifeless with its sclera in a milky white color.

The ends of their necks… strings of their innards hanging out at the bloody serrated rim.

"Celestine, look…" Arno held me at the shoulder and pointed out something I did not notice at the first glance. At the middle of the pikes were scrap pieces of wood, something was written on each of them, the color of the ink looked maroon—it must be blood, it has to be, nothing else.

The words read:  _Je vais vous faire_.

"I will have you…" Arno read out loud.

_Xavier…_

On Henry's pike, the word  _Je_ was written on the sheet of wood nailed to the staff. Following Louis's wooden sheet were  _vais vous_  written, and lastly for poor Marius—who I guessed was only fifteen when I met him—was  _faire._

From the looks of everything, it looked like the Assassins were barring the possible openings that lead to the mansion—or worse to the Brotherhood itself—then it resulted to a bloody duel between these rogues and our Brothers here in the streets just to protect the access. The other Assassins seem to have been stationed inside—that explains the shuttered windows and sealed door. However, the left side entrance where the patio is located seemed to be safely protected by the others and the ones in the frontline.

"It's a miracle that these rogues didn't take notice of the other entrance."

"These are ignorant idiots who do not fully know who they are attacking," Arno adds.

"I wonder if Siegfried, Octavien, and Felix are alright."

"I am sure they are. Come on. It seems that the staff has evacuated in the underground of the mansion."

Just when we were about to head for the entrance gate underneath the bridge, we heard the door creak open—it's being pushed from the inside, a sign of life—and we stopped in our pace and waited for that someone to get out and show himself.

"Celestine? Arno?" a familiar voice rung from the door ajar.

"Siegfried?" I breathed out, relieved that he's alive.

"Arno! Celestine!" he rammed the door open and then the rest of them showed up, stepping out of the dimness of the fully-closed café, including Adrien and some of his remaining men, then our Brothers.

The heavy feeling anchored in my heart suddenly vanished as they all got out of the mansion and ran up to us to embrace us.

" _Venez à l'intérieur ... nous avons beaucoup à parler_." Octavien, in his stern and serious tone.

" _Nous savons_ ," I told him.

As we went inside, I noticed that Siegfried looked both ways out in the street cautiously before fully closing the door and barring it with a huge wooden plank and sandbags.

"Seems to me we're taking precautions intensely now."

"You'll find out why, Sister."

"I'm dying to hear."

My voice at my last statement didn't sound sarcastic, its aura sounded dark and dire as I stalk across the halls, following Arno and Octavien to the underground passage that leads to the Brotherhood.

Everything was dim, even the mansion itself; the window shutters barricaded the narrowest slit where sunlight could enter and only little rays could pierce through the vents of the shutters and pool faintly into the air. The stage where there used to be stage actors and the tables that used to be filled with middle-class citizens enjoying their tea and the show now toppled and in a disarray, not even this was spared from the attack and probably these were toppled while the maids, the cooks and even Madame Gouze were evacuating to a safer place.

The place I called home… now invaded and violated.

My Brothers… lost and dead.

Whatever Xavier wants I will give him. If he wants bloodshed, then I'll make sure his sheds first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRENCH:
> 
> Non, non – No, no
> 
> Tout va bien – Everything's fine
> 
> Je vais vous faire – I will have you
> 
> Venez à l'intérieur ... nous avons beaucoup à parler – Come inside… we have a lot to talk about.
> 
> Nous savons – We know


	38. A Warning on the Doorstep

**Celestine's POV**

"Where are the maids? I asked as quietly as I could to Octavien and Siegfried as we stalk silently across the halls of the mansion. I noticed that almost every opening in the mansion is sealed shut—even the intendant's office until the medical room where we treated the sick and injured up until the backroom that leads to the other side of the district.

Octavien glanced to his side to answer me, "They've hidden underground. They evacuated just in time before things got worse."

"It's good that they're alright."

We got to the passage at the bottom of the stairs, Octavien and Arno pushed the door open, dust and candlelight were the first things I saw and then we stepped into the tunnel. The resident merchant was gone as well, he wasn't in his usual post to sell his goods to the Assassins who come and go while passing by him.

"The merchant, is he safe as well? And my cousin—Juliette?" I said, noticing my growing worry.

"Yes, they're safely hidden along with the maids of the café." Siegfried.

"One last thing… The Council? What of them?"

"They're waiting for you." Octavien, given his voice, somehow made it sound so ominous that it's gut-wrenching.

"Oh, great. Are they going to blame us for this?"

"Now's not the time for negativities, dear." Arno.

"I wasn't being negative, I was being sarcastic." I rebutted.

Going to the grand staircase, we met up with Felix standing by the side of an injured Brother—he was already finished with the dressing of the wound—then he stands up, walks up to us and throws his open arms at us. My hand on his back let me feel the heavy breathing as he embraced me and Arno together, I can tell that he must have been holding his breath for too long as he waited for us to come back home.

"You two don't know how much I've waited for you to come back safely." Felix sighed in relief.

"But we weren't able to help you soon enough," Arno said sadly, in contrast to the relief that our Brother expressed.

"That's alright. It's not your fault that you didn't knew what was happening. Actually, we didn't see it coming at the first moment but we had to haste and raise our blades. Before all this, Henry and Louis… they told us you were in a safehouse somewhere…"

"Pantheon district. We bumped into the faction I used to work with." I answered but hearing Henry and Louis's names made me shudder.

"I see," Felix mutters.

"Come, the Council members seek for the two of you."

"Don't worry, you two have nothing to do with the trouble."

"Let's hope Madame Trenet does not put it that way," I grumble as we follow our Brothers.

They open the gate that leads to the grand court, the place where I was formally initiated as a Master Assassin, whenever we would walk as a group I didn't realize that I was standing at the rear of the pack—I think I am afraid, afraid that Arno and I would be blamed for this, afraid that we would be stripped off of our rank or worse our place as an Assassin in that Council—I could feel my heart pounding so loud and my temples throbbing hard. Why do I feel so anxious? For what reason?

We enter the court altogether and faced the Mentors. On usual circumstances, they stand with a large gap in between each other with Madame Trenet in the middle—as always—but today they stand together with merely five inches away from each other, does that mean anything? My guess is that they think that this incident is so severe and tragic that they have to stand together governing us Assassins.

All of us clustered before them in their high platforms, literally looking up at them and watching their blank gazes pierce at us.

"Celestine, Arno…" Guillaume.

" _Monsieur_ Guillaume," I responded the acknowledgment.

"Master Assassins, what is your take on this most tragic event?" Quemar.

"With all due respect, Mentors," I took a step forward, quickly pushing my way through my Brothers, "This group of rogues doesn't seem to have any allegiance of either Templar or Assassin. My assumption is that they were easily swayed by the coin of their clientele, I can't say how much but I have an idea that whoever is paying them sure has deep pockets."

"Aristocrats? Monarchs? Friends of the monarchs?" Felix puts in.

"Why would they attack us? Those greedy, pigheaded morons would rather attack the citizens in lower ranks than them!" Octavien growled.

"That judgment is biased and yet I hate to say it but it is factual." I exclaimed and then I relaxed as I realized something, "Unless…"

"Unless what?" Octavien.

"Who else has the greater power over Paris besides any king?"

They got my rhetoric pretty quickly—impressive—and the answer to that is Xavier. Only Templar Grandmasters have such a power over the big names of the city without even blowing a single hair of their cover and knowing Xavier, for a coward he has gotten himself quite a mind or maybe he is just relying on a borrowed brain—let's say, his strange chaperone?

"Our only lead is the Templar Grandmaster, Mentors!" my hypothesis is so leading that my voice cracked when I disclosed it.

"Celestine, what of your progress with the troops of scouts that you sent out in the catacombs?" Trenet.

Well, there goes Trenet—why do I feel like she makes the situation so difficult for any of us or maybe that's just me—just as I was about to say my defense, Adrien set his foot forward, positioning himself a pace ahead of me and it already looked like he took the question and answered it on my behalf—and for everybody's behalf.

"Permission to speak on the Assassins' collective behalf, Madam Trenet," Adrien.

"Granted."

"Speaking of the troops—which majority of them belong to my party—I have received reports that most of my men have found clues and even the occasional leads about this Templar Grandmaster. The latest report that I have received from them is that they have found several hideouts and shafts which contained so much Templar paraphernalia, in case you have not checked yet this retrieved paraphernalia were surrendered to the study hall and we managed to track down more of Xavier Maximus's hideouts."

"So, you are saying that you... have leads to where this Templar hides?" Guillaume.

"Yes, _Monsieur_ Guillaume."

The three of them looked at each other, I can feel that they are close to another verdict or close to coming up with another question for all of us.

"So far, how many have you tracked down?"

"Marais, Palais du Luxembourg, Saint-Jacques and even the underground of Notre Dame."

_Interesting. I mean I have been there before several times but… I never imagined Xavier underneath such a holy place._

"And what resolution do you propose?" Trenet.

"If you are expecting me to say that it should be a civil war in the streets then you are quite wrong; it's so unwise to wage a war in a city like this—not even the pastures are enough to become a battlefield."

"Then what do you suggest, Master Assassin Celestine?" Quemar.

I looked away from them and stared at the floor, thought long and hard, pondered so much on every strategy that comes to my mind, mentally applied certain tactics that are both practical and impractical, I even calculated how many lives and casualties will be at stake.

"It's me that Xavier wants. He knew that he should have killed me when he had the chance—when I was very weak and young back then but I think he thought of me as a worthy opponent one day." I muttered under my breath, unaware that my Brothers and Arno heard me because I felt Arno's hand gently grip on my shoulder.

"Celestine…" Arno muttered.

I turned around to face Arno, his eyes so full of worry and I felt that they were all depending on me to come up with a plan to finally put this Templar Grandmaster into silence.

"We have to lure him in. It might take some time—it's never easy anyway—and I wouldn't want to lose so many Brothers battle by battle but I guess it takes some sacrifice as well. In times like these, there is no plan that guarantees that everyone will be all right in the end. _I_ have to lure him in, I'll let myself become the bait." I did not face the Council members but I made my voice loud and clear enough for them to hear while I fixed my gaze on Arno and all of my Brothers.

_But I really wanted to voice out that surely I must be the one that he really wants. I must be his target. The rogues, the killing that happened earlier, the attack on the faction's district… even way back from my parents' murder…_

_It is all a lure. A bait._

_And I am the fish he wants to catch—a fish that eludes him._

_I want to tell them—all of them—but I don't want to sound like a damned fool spattering assumptions and radical nonsense, they would think that I am asking for a deathwish._

_But for the sake of the Brotherhood, and for the sake of Arno as well, I must stay quiet and I must be there for them._

"Very well. In a drastic time of tyranny, anything goes. Master Assassin Celestine, whatever aid you need, we will be ready to provide." Trenet.

"You will now lead your own squadron to thwart this dreadful Templar Grandmaster's schemes and we trust your capability to lead and free Paris from its terror." Quemar.

"Thank you, Madame Trenet and other Mentors. I am indeed grateful."

I brought my Brothers to the underground study at the back of the kitchen, I laid out the map and took a quill to mark the areas that Adrien's troops have found their leads—the catacomb shafts and the houses that acted as hideouts—looking at the distance between each landmark in each district, I noticed that it was not too far from each other except for the palace in Luxembourg.

"He doesn't seem to be in the same neighborhood as Napoleon Bonaparte." Arno.

"I guess Xavier got the hint that Napoleon is at our side—when he's not cavorting with noblewomen that is." I added and they all rung into a collective chuckle in variating tones.

"Celestine, if I may add, my men said that Xavier normally travels by carriage. Some said he rode a black carriage with maroon wheels and red leather seats—because they saw that the windows of the carriage were only covered with sheer curtains—and is drawn by two horses; while the other half of my entire troop says that he rides a green carriage, with four horses and the wheels have golden detailing on them." Adrien adds.

"He changes his carriages to at least keep himself incognito and cover his visual tracks. Have you observed the intervals?"

"He does not have a particular pattern of riding either carriage as to which hideout he goes next."

"Hmm, smart… but not that smart."

"Last I saw him he was cavorting with women in an aristocrat's mansion in Sorbonne." One of Adrien's men joined in the conversation between me and Adrien.

"Received anything useful?"

"I heard that this aristocrat is willing to help him with his funds."

"That corrupted, cowardly arsehole," Siegfried grumbled in exasperation. "That's one lead why he must have been able to fund those rogues who attacked us!"

"Calm down, my Brother." I gesture Siegfried as he stood up from the edge of his perch to express more of his sentiments about Xavier's motive. "You have a fair point and I think everyone in this room agrees."

Upon hearing about this aristocrat, ideas flowed into my mind, this wealthy noble might be of use to us—especially his mind, memory, and mouth—so my plan was to find this man living in a mansion in Sorbonne, take him captive in one of the underground hideouts and make him talk there.

"Wait, what does our man look like?" I asked, turning around, skidding the heels of my boots as I face all of them clumped in one side of the room—except for Arno who was leaning forward on the study table where the map is laid.

"I would say a man of fifty, powdered wig, and he likes cigars." Adrien.

"No hair on the face or scar whatsoever?"

He shook his head and mouthed the word "No".

"So our man is a middle-aged one with a fancy powdered wig who chews tobacco."

They all snicker. Then I continue coming up with a plan.

"Adrien, send a few of your men to spy on this funder and as well as Xavier—but be wary of Xavier the most, he has a deadly chaperone.

"I remember," Siegfried mumbled yet I heard.

"There's got to be a subtle way to get to him, it doesn't matter who catches him first—I want him alive, I want him to talk," I growled lowly.

There was an awkward silence amongst us in the underground study, the orange candlelight on the metal braces and iron stands illuminated on us—when I looked around all of us, we looked ominous like dark monks in our dim safehaven because the halves of our faces were lit while the other side is overshadowed, thus our entire shadows were cast darkly.

"Spy on the aristocrat and learn of his agendas—I will personally go with your scouting parties—and once we've learned enough, we will discuss it again in here and we will design the plan at once."

"When do we start?" Octavien.

I parted my mouth open to answer him but Arno cut me off, "Now."

"Are you serious, Arno?" Felix.

"He's not joking, that's for sure." Adrien.

"You're insane, Arno! Do we even have a lead to where this aristocrat is? Who knows—maybe he has several mansions to hide and that one where they found him is just a decoy!" Siegfried.

"Calm down, Siegfried. It's not only Adrien and his company will scour Paris—us too. We have to make our own contributions. We'll confirm to ourselves whether the mansion where they first found him is a decoy or not—if it's not, then we'll search on."

"Since when did you become such a dictator? Who even gave you the authority to be like that? You weren't like that at all—especially before you were just like one of us: an intermediate, _un nouveau venu_." one of the scouts chided and he definitely emphasized that last one.

We all look at him and there was a stale silence in the entire room.

The sound of a low gasps and murmurs of shock rung across the room and I got my eyes peeled on him, from the looks of him he must be very bold—especially to say that to me yet I have no right to insult him whatever his rank maybe—and his eyes (since he was wearing the face mask like the others) were steely and his pulled-together eyebrows made him appear stern but looks don't easily scare an Assassin—even towards a fellow Assassin.

I took a step forward and walked towards him, the other scouts surrounding him on his sides gave way for me even though I have more than enough space just to march towards him in a slow pace, imposing that I am beginning to question him; at his left side, his Brother thumped him on the stomach with a backhand hit and then shuffled to the farther side along with the others. Behind me, I heard Arno murmur my name to call me back and to stop me on my tracks but it didn't do no good—I just heard my name, nothing else.

When I got close enough to confront him, my index finger and thumb grabbed the hem of his mask and wore it down so I can really see his face. He seems just to be in the same age bracket as Adrien or Felix but he's growing a light stubble which makes him a few years older than he looks; I kept his eyes on him, my lids relax and I raise an eyebrow at him.

"That's quite a bold remark, Brother," I tell him but the rough tone of my voice makes me sound like I was hissing at him, "If I recall correctly, the Brotherhood's Council members granted me the privilege of leading my own squad for this mission; if you have a problem of having me to give you orders, you are very much welcome to dismiss yourself from the party and make yourself useful somewhere else."

He gulped nervously as he rolled his eyes down, avoiding my stare.

"Look at me." I firmly tell him and he obeyed, "Now if you don't want me giving you orders, I suggest you join Arno's division in the search—because I will split the entire team to conduct the scale search—and perhaps pour out all your woes to him being your superior. One less complaint is all I need in my troop."

"Now you're going to get it." I heard one of his Brothers murmur supposedly at him as a jest.

"Forgive me, Celestine."

"Do we still have a problem here?" I circled my view at them and they all shook their heads while some mouthed "no" and then I return my gaze to him, awaiting his response.

"N-No, _mademoiselle._ "

"Good, because I don't want to waste time. You'll get your Master rank someday, Brother. Maybe one day it will be you who will get to give orders to my children." I turn away from him and walk back to my map laid out on the table.

* * *

**Arno's POV**

She threw some shade on that scout pretty well.

At least they know not to mess with her anymore. I just considered the fact that the scout hasn't spent much time in doing group missions with Celestine so he does not have an idea of her authoritative strategies.

_Maybe one day it will be you who will get to give orders to my children._

Her statement got stuck in my head. _Children._

We continued on with our plan and she agreed with my idea to start now.

"How do I do this…" she mumbles to herself as I stand by her side, she flinches her head up and counted all of us in the room.

I watched her lips move as she counts and she finally came up with a plan.

"There are mansions in each district, correct?" she asks us collectively.

"Yes." We said in unison—not all, but some including myself.

"Then we divide the parties for each mansion district and then we search the funder, as much as possible, we must find his influences as well, not everyone gets success without another rich man's help—we eavesdrop their conversations and report back. I need to know his motives first before striking."

"I give two weeks." Adrien bets.

"No, there won't be any deadline; we may have the freedom of time but let's not waste it to dawdle and drink, hm?" Celestine.

"Should we move out now?" I ask her.

"You can leave and do your task at your own will. I'm sure you all are grown men with discipline stuck in your bodies and minds."

"Yes, _mademoiselle_ Celestine." the younger scouts reply even though it wasn't exactly a question.

When everyone else was leaving the room, the scout who talked back to Celestine stayed behind of his Brothers and then I stopped him in his track before he could even take a step on a tread of stairs that leads to the kitchen.

"You better watch your mouth now," I warned him.

"I'll be careful next time."

"You don't get it, do you? Don't get to her bad side—that's the bottom line in everything."

"What is with her?"

"She's just trying to do her job with all the best that she has, alright? All of us would do the same."

"I see. My apologies."

"Go and run along now."

He joins his Brothers and then it was just me, our three Brothers, Adrien and Celestine—who seemed to have never left her place on the table with the map laid out—we looked at each other and then brainstormed again; we've never been this so stressed out until this conflict with the psychotic manchild of a Templar Grandmaster came up. Awkward silence filled the room and I focused on Celestine, the candlelight illuminating her face—she's stressed but her face is calm yet serious-looking—and she saw me looking at her, before I remember when she spots me looking at her she looks away shyly and now she doesn't maybe because we're lovers now.

"Does that mean we're going to join them too?" Felix.

"Yes, it's not just them—we need all the efforts we got before this man makes himself more powerful than the king of France!" Octavien exclaims.

"It's the scouts I'm relying on more because they're the flies on the wall. If they report, we'll at least have a lead as to where Xavier and his funder is." Celestine.

"We better get moving now," Siegfried says, readying himself with his ax.

"Arno and I will take Sorbonne." Celestine initiated, "We meet tonight at the Brotherhood underground."

And all of us exited the underground study and once we got to the surface of the house, Celestine goes upstairs where our rooms are and I just had to follow her.

"Celestine, wait!" I called her but she didn't stop in scurrying to the second floor, "Where are you going?!"

I found her in her bedroom and she was standing in front of the window where she bathes herself in the pooling sunlight, her brown locks shining amidst the sunrays and her figure was stiff and still; I looked around and everything else looked to be the in order—it was in the same arrangement as we left it when we went to Pantheon.

"Is there something wrong, Celestine?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong." She slowly side-glances at me.

I walk up to her, grab her gently by her arms and faced her, "You can tell me anything, right? What's troubling you?"

"I thought they ransacked everything. I suppose our Brothers put up…" she choked, almost into tears, "They put a good fight."

I pull her in to hug her, stroking her hair I feel the slow thumping of her heart and her breathing was calm yet I feel the tension and worry in her. I gently pull her away so she can face me, she looks at me with those eyes—bright hazel eyes that resemble the stained glass in churches when exposed to sunlight—her gentle fingers reach out to caress my cheeks, the warmth pressing onto me, then she stood on the tips of her shoes to reach up to my mouth and kiss me.

"Hey, you alright?"

"Just… in grief."

"You're good at not showing it."

"I am what they call stoic."

"Of course, you are. But sometimes I see…"

"You see me being vulnerable? Yes, yes, you do. I think you're the only one who does, Arno."

I step forward to kiss her head and then put my arm around her, in a desperate attempt to comfort her in any way I can and I feel her arms hug me back.

"Come now, it's not fair for the others to be the only ones scouting the city," I tell her.

"Yes, I know."

She went out of the bedroom ahead of me and we caught up with the others; her natural physique returned, I watched how her mid-length coattails flowed as she jogs to the nearest open window in the second floor foyer, quickly she perched on the window sill as graceful as a peregrine and she glanced at me—expecting me to follow—and she flashed me that one-sided smile that looked so cunning and seemed like it's always craving for mischief; she sprung herself out of the window, like how a falcon would fly away from its perch and I watched her grab a horizontal pole—which she used to swing herself and gain some leverage so she can grab to the succeeding pole.

Now she turned into an acrobat.

I followed her but I did my own technique of swinging and getting to the rooftop to gain a good vantage of our Brothers—in case all hell breaks loose again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRENCH:
> 
> un nouveau venu – a newcomer


	39. Strategic Planning

**Arno's POV**

We didn't dawdle in athletically jumping and swinging pole to pole, we necessarily did that to sharpen our body reflexes but we didn't do that to peacock (alright, I admit, I used to do that just to show off to my Brothers for jokes) and we caught up with them but we were to be separated to cover more ground.

From the café, basically all of us went north to the  _cité_ but knowing these Assassins, I am sure that they will all split up in teams and scour the city. Before Celestine could actually move forward after reaching a small house's roof, she was standing still with her one foot propped up on a pile of scrap wood; the posture made her look like one of those renowned revolutionaries in paintings, all glorious and majestic but this view was different from what I see in paintings, what I see is the broad sunlight shining down on her face, the breeze blowing away the stray locks of her brunette hair and the narrowing ends of her coattail and the dimming silhouette gracefully right in front of me—what I see is the silhouette of my wife.

I didn't speak whilst she was standing still, as though it looked like she was trying to scan her surroundings just by relying on her hearing—she was concentrating on hearing the footsteps of our Brothers depending on what route they are taking—afterwards, she slowly looked at me.

"Where to now?" I ask.

She blinked, her tender lips slowly parting and thinking of a place to investigate in.

"Temple. We got to the district of Temple—there are some mansions there although I cannot guarantee."

"Celestine," I held her hand and looked at her sincerely in the eyes, "It's all worth a try."

Her lip curled up into a small smile and then nodded, she and I sped towards the next rooftop in our twelve o' clock and then headed our way to the Temple district. What I had in mind is that if Temple was an unfortunate find, we'd head to the riverside part of Luxembourg. As speedy and agile as ever, Celestine skillfully leaped like a cat across gaps between houses and buildings until she stopped at the third building we landed on.

"What is it?"

"I hope that this time… we will not fail them."

"The Mentors?"

"No… our Brothers. I feel like if we did fail them, we might bring them to the same doom as the ones who died." She mutters sadly.

I gently take her by the shoulders, rubbed them as if to suppress whatever tension she has and gently held her by the chin.

"Celestine," I sigh, "Why are you thinking so negative like that? This isn't you."

"I'm clearly just overthinking things. But the pressure I have, burdened on my shoulders, I brought it onto myself. I feel so responsible—knowing that the Mentors laid it on me."

" _Amore mio_ , you're not alone. You have me and we have our Brothers." I consoled her.

She took a big breath, so deep that her shoulders lifted, she throws herself to me and I held her tightly in my arms. I can feel her arms tightening around me, as if she was trying to encase me in her grasp yet she couldn't but still she hugged me while I hug her back; I brush away strands of her hair covering her forehead so I could kiss it, letting her know that it will be all right and that we'll complete our mission.

"Come on." I gestured with my head, pointing to the front direction.

We galloped, increasing our momentum and getting ready to jump anytime soon, we fell as we jumped but we caught hold of the thick iron rings dangling on the wall of the house; we grounded the soles of our boots hard on the sandstone concrete, like spiders we crawled our way up and grasped the narrow rim of the edge of the roof to pull ourselves up—she quickly helped me up to the roof as she got to the top first and she even stumbled when I got up on the roof as well.

She squealed and then laughed when I stumbled on her, yet I'm glad that I didn't squish her, she stayed lying down underneath me—whenever I fall into her hazel gaze I always feel like she has stopped time with those eyes, as if the gods granted her much favor to do so, everything feels frozen, the faintest chuckle echoes around me and the slightest smile would make my heart skip a beat, the pace of time runs slow and I wish it would always be like that so I can be with her for longer because I fear for the time where I'll lose her but I pray that it won't ever happen—when my consciousness jumped back into reality, she snuck a quick kiss but it doesn't feel that way… because  _the way she did it_  was quick but the kiss was long yet tender—long enough for me to savor and caress a bit on those soft lips. As she pulls away, she makes a triumphant chuckle—it sounded as so because she cunningly caught me off guard and she easily slid away from me and got the lead in the running.

"Oh no, you don't!" I laughed.

"Ha! Catch me if you can, Dorian!" she scoffed as she darts through and takes off from the edge of the roof like a falcon taking off from its perch, tumbling on her landing to balance her fall and avoid any bad hits.

I myself land in a crouching position and my body has been used to this kind of movement as I eject myself from a crouch and gain enough speed and momentum to pick up my pacing, regardless whether I'm racing against someone or just speeding through to not waste time.

Even if she was playing around to ease the tension, it's not the time to really play along with her—she's trying her best to make things lighter.

_She's such a strong woman. Is she aware of that?_

"Come on, Arno! Catch up!" she called out, looking over her shoulder to glance at me to check if I was still there by her side.

"Don't worry, I won't get behind," I tell her and we continue.

When we were already at the heart of the city, she stopped and looked down—I assume she's searching for our Brothers and then she jumped down straight, I stepped forward to the edge and watch her descend step by step: first she perched on an outstretched wooden beam, she lets go and then she lands safely on a stack of apple boxes.

_Not bad for my little girl._

I descend when she was already on the ground and then I stood close behind her, looking at the same direction where she is—still presuming that she was on the lookout for enemies or fellow Brothers until she quickly fixes her hood and she bars me with her arm, the top of her Hidden Blade (the safe side) thumping on my coat.

"What…?"

She shushes me and we scurried to the back of the boxes, we saw a small team of royal guards patrolling the streets; shouldering past the peasants carrying their baskets and chickens, when they were past the alley where we hid, we went out of our hiding spot and readjusted our hoods. At the corner of my eye, I noticed that Celestine was already  _loading_  the magazine of her Phantom Blade.

"Celestine,  _qu'est-ce que vous prévoyez_?" the questioning tone of my voice was enough to catch her attention.

She looks up and locks on the magazine as she stops reloading it with the last Phantom Blade, "Taking precautions."

She winks at me.

But as she walks ahead of me, her arms stretch to her back with her palm open—a gesture if you want to hold hands with someone—when she thought that I didn't see it, she reaches back to tap me and lightly thumped me on my abdomen, I didn't need to wait for her to speak—I just held her hand as we emerged from the dim, browning shadows of our cover.

Brushing past the citizens, we kept our eyes on that small patrol of guards. Judging their body language, they looked nervous—as if they have already assumed that they're being followed—but they kept on going, concealing their façade in those intimidating bulky uniforms; something above caught our eye and they were our Brothers yet they were far from our location—it would seem that they're getting ahead of these guards, anticipating for the courier they were supposed to protect—when they saw us from down below, Celestine signals them with her two fingers pointing straight ahead, which means they should watch and look for anyone suspicious and anxious for a set of bodyguards.

We went forward but of course, we blended with the crowd whilst keeping our eyes sharp on those guards, following them felt like gliding slowly through space—because it felt like we were in a slow void and they looked unreachable.

* * *

From above, the two Assassins whom Celestine signaled to easily got her orders, they went forward—ahead from the guards and searched for the possible courier as they judged from a person's looks and behavior—when they found a wealthy-looking man, they noticed that his line of sight was directed to the guards.

"I think we have our man." The first Assassin, donning a dark green robe and mask, says surely to his companion who wears a dark gray robe for distinction.

"I'm signaling Arno and Celestine." Dark Gray initiated.

"Go." Dark Green nods at him.

He speeds away from his companion and searches for the Assassin couple on level ground, Celestine kept a watchful eye above; she looks up at the roof as she finds Dark Green detached from his Brother, he signals at her with the same gesture with his forefinger and middle finger, she responds to a nod and she relays the whereabouts to Arno, they continue to blend in with the thick of the crowd as they tail onto the guards. The rooftop scout from above returns to the side of his companion—who watched over the courier like a stone saint looking down on a churchgoer.

"Aloysius?" Dark Green nudged his Brother as they crouched to prevent drawing any attention from watchers.

"He's still there." Aloysius nods at their target and he leans closer to Dark Green and points at the courier, dressed richly in a dark purple dress coat and sandy brow trousers, "That one with the purple jacket, Corbin."

"Good, they're already close to him." Corbin, the young novice in dark green.

"Which one are we talking about here?"

"Both the guards  _and_  Celestine and Arno."

"They'll call out the signal, right?"

"Yes, no one kills anyone  _yet_ ," Corbin emphasizes.

They waited patiently, prowling on the rooftop, both hid behind a chimney and a dormer (the part of the roof with a small canopy and window, commonly the attic window) of the house and peeked from the edge to watch if Celestine and Arno were beginning to close in.

Surely these two novices knew—from their training and from their experience—that they are the ones who would catch up to the target from above and possibly get ahead of the target if they attempt to run away from the other Assassin who is tailing from behind and got  _too close_.

"Ready your blade, Corbin." Aloysius.

Instead of a single click of an engaged blade, Aloysius heard the singing of several smaller blades. He forgot that Corbin is an expert in throwing knives and that he used more of his throwing knives—some were retrieved from his victims' bodies to save in supply from the Brotherhood. As he shot a look at Corbin, the younger novice's eyes smiled with a mischievous yet coy glint in them.

 _He has another trick up his sleeve. This boy, honestly._  Aloysius thinks to himself about his Brother, possibly months younger than him.

He rolls his eyes, looking away from his Brother and he keeps himself busy in checking his blade's mechanism before moving out.

They peeked from the edges of their hiding spots again and saw that Celestine and Arno were already following the trail of the courier with the protection of his blue-coated bodyguards, Aloysius spotted the couple scaling on the window sills of a house just at the quarter left corner of their vantage point.

"What is it, Aloysius?" he shuffles closer, facing his Brother.

"They're scaling at that house," he points to the couple, quickly climbing the house, jumping over window shutters and poles until they got to top of the roof. "We need to get ahead of them—both parties—come on."

They moved away from their hiding spots and then sprinted nimbly on the surface of the stone shingles, careful not to trip and ruin their momentum they spring away from the gutter and rocket themselves into the air and—through quick mental calculations—land in a tuck-and-roll and crouch position on the next roof deck.

Meanwhile, Celestine and Arno stood and watched the two young novices get ahead as they tail the courier from above.

"Do you think they're eavesdropping while trailing him down, Celestine?"

"Relax, Arno, I trust them—don't look down on novices so much. We were once like them anyway."

From there, the boys kept a watchful eye and ear on the courier, alert for any important conversation—every word counts—one would get ahead of the other. Aloysius would take the front while Corbin takes the rear—between Arno and Celestine and the guards so that the distance is secure and not too far away.

"Corbin, take the other building." Aloysius.

"But Celestine and Arno are doing that." He protests.

"They're way in the rear, they won't make it."

Corbin scanned the area for the nearest building he could scale while he is still neck-and-neck with Aloysius and the courier and he went ahead—brushing past Aloysius—as he spotted a rope connected from their roof to the one across it.

"Where are you going?" Aloysius.

"Following your orders. Go!"

Aloysius did not waste any time, he went onwards as he watches Corbin tiptoe his way to the other building, Celestine saw it from the distance yet they kept going forward—later catching up to Corbin.

"What brings you here?" Arno.

"Aloysius had a plan—I hope it is." He jokes.

"No time, boys. Look." Celestine points down at the courier and his bodyguards.

Corbin looks across the building, seeing Aloysius crouched down and doing the same—watching over the target making sure that he doesn't get away or anything.

"We have to get them now."

The three of them sped out, trying to catch up with Aloysius and trying not to make anything stupid.

"Surely, he'll go to an alley somewhere to meet with  _son ami_." Celestine assumes.

"I presume you have a plan in mind, Celestine?" Arno.

She answered with a sly smirk.

Before approaching the next block, one by one they begin to slow down as they heard that the courier has been coming to a halt and passing to a luxurious bar.

"He must be meeting up with another crony." Corbin.

"Corbin, regroup with your Brother and then tell him that it was under my order. I have a plan." Celestine.

"And what plan would that be?" Arno.

"Corbin and Aloysius should have plenty supply of smoke bombs—they'll create the diversion but that happens after they've killed the bodyguards by the blade, I'll take it from the courier and his friend." Then Celestine turns to face Corbin, "Understand?"

"Yes."

"On you go."

He scurries back to his companion while Celestine and Arno watch from a fair clearance between the two novices and the guards.

"Now," Celestine says as she and Arno swiftly glide to the next roof and then take on the other side of bodyguards—a different pair as the courier talks to his intel—before Corbin and Aloysius could even draw their blades, she has already caught their attention and then she signals them to kill at will.

Both novices descended, a whoosh cut through the air and the next thing they know they're already crouching on the backs of their victims, before the others could even shout and alarm other people—or worse, the guards and extremists—Celestine double air assassinated the second courier's guards (there were only two of them anyway) and sent one Phantom Blade flying to the third guard of their main target. Arno drew out his sword close to the [second] courier's neck while Corbin stuck one throwing knife close to the first one's neck.

"Assassins!" the first courier hissed with despise, "Xavier will have your heads on pikes and torches!"

"Thank you for the acknowledgment,  _monsieur_ ," Celestine remarked sarcastically, "And I'm glad you brought Xavier up."

"What do you want from me?" the courier cowers.

"Everything that you know," she paces closer towards him, "We know you are his funder, so where is he?"

"I am not telling you anything, woman!"

"Don't make this the hard way around,  _monsieur_ ," then her attention shifts to the other courier behind her back, held by Corbin and his throwing knife, "Perhaps your friend knows a thing or two."

"N-No! I know nothing of this! Leave me out of this mess of yours!" he stammers.

"Then that just means you  _do_  know something." Corbin hisses.

"Tell me something invaluable about Xavier and your life shall be spared—including your friend's."

"I told you! I said I know nothing of this!"

"Corbin." Celestine urges him for a signal, an inside command that he was anticipating.

He makes a mischievous grin stretching ear to ear, pushes his blade to the neck, so close that the thinnest edge presses against the skin and it takes only one nick to make it bleed.

"Stay still,  _monsieur_ , so I don't make a mess." Corbin snickers almost maniacally.

Corbin's hostage shudders in full fear while Celestine stands between the first courier and the other being held down by Corbin, she looks at both left and right and when a few seconds have finished ticking…

"Gentlemen, honestly, do you have anything to say? I need Xavier's whereabouts." She demands with a tone of exasperation.

"We got nothing to tell you, tramp!" the first courier held by Arno growls, droplets of his spit flying through his teeth as he called Celestine a tramp.

That snapped something inside Celestine, an offended ego and a cunning sadist were triggered, she clicked out her Hidden Blade and she turned her head to the courier who called her that; as Arno witnesses it, her eyes had a different glint—it was beautiful yet dangerous-looking, as if it were the eyes of a prowling lioness—and she stretched out her bladed arm until the tip of the armament's pointed steel punctures the flesh of the neck. Careful and precise, the blade was close to the man's Adam's apple.

"I believe you do." She hisses softly.

She slices the man's face in an uppercut motion, before his scream of pain could even ring across the entire alley she covers his mouth and muffles his howl.

"Tell me."

"In Tuileries! He'll be attending a ball in Tuileries tonight! In the mansion of a fellow Templar, in the street in the eastern side."

"A ball?"

"A masquerade,  _mademoiselle._ "

Deep inside, Celestine has always dreamed of attending a masquerade ball; she admired the air of mystery looming in the ballroom as each attendant hides behind an elaborate mask.

" _Merci, monsieur._ " She sheepishly thanks him.

"What do we do with them, Celestine?" Aloysius.

Her sweet and polite smile was replaced with a relaxed, straight face but with a sinister aura. She does a side-glance and makes a sigh, acting sheepishly.

"Kill them." She tells them firmly and when the Assassins start to brandish their blades and meet it with flesh, she adds, "Ah-ah-ah, quietly, boys. We don't want to have a noisy mess in here."

Afterwards the silent gore, the four of them scale the wall adjacent to the alley and then made a short conference there.

* * *

**Arno's POV**

"A masquerade ball, huh?"

"Now how are we going to get to Xavier while he's enjoying fine wine and imported cheese in the ball room of a nobleman?" Aloysius.

"Actually, I think we need to check Tuileries now before we could come up with an actual plan," Celestine suggests.

"Why?" Corbin.

"Chances are there might be rallies that could last up to tonight."

"What good will the rally do to our plan?" Aloysius.

"A diversion," I reply.

"You know what, Arno? I actually think you're thinking what I'm thinking." Celestine.

We made our way to Tuileries as fast as we could, gliding and leaping until we could see the towering mansions and their spires. We took a mansion roof as a vantage point and watched the streets being blotched with the peasants rallying on the streets while some are actually piling up by one of the mansions in the districts.

"That could be our mansion there." Celestine.

"I believe so."

"So what's the plan?"

"I'll tell you all later when we get back to the Brotherhood. It's not safe to confer this out in the wide open."

And with that, we head on returning to our homestead with our Brothers—as we expect so—to finally come up with a plan to have Xavier cornered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRENCH:
> 
> qu'est-ce que vous prévoyez? – What are you planning?
> 
> Son ami – his friend


	40. Hear the News of a Ball

**Celestine's POV**

We return home to the Brotherhood and we commenced the meeting in the study hall upstairs, a lot of them came to the meeting, the ones who have done their rounds of scouting managed to make it here—some even squeezed themselves between the others so that they could just hear but I'm glad that they were quiet, sparing me the trouble of straining my voice to make it loud and clear for the others in the back.

"The funder said that there'll be a masquerade ball tonight at the mansion on the east street of Tuileries—Xavier Maximus will be there." Arno.

"And we'll be attending it," I tell all of them.

They don't seem to get my idea. Their heads slightly tilted to the side and their brows pulled together. The intel said it was a masquerade ball tonight so I thought of entering the ball and corner Xavier where he least expects it. Dressed as nobles in suits and a dress, attend the ball casually and once I get the perfect chance to trap him, he'll have nowhere to go—we can finally finish this.

I explained the plan to them and they finally got it. Dressing up like aristocrats and entering the mansion and blending in while in the party is just the first part but the ambush attack is apparently the hardest part of the master plan.

"Only a selected few is going to infiltrate the mansion quietly—we're going to need some good choice of masks—I volunteer to be in the infiltration division. Who else wants to go inside the mansion?"

"I'm coming with you, there is no way I am letting you take Xavier alone." Arno cuts in.

"Count me in, Celestine." Octavien.

"However, the Assassins who will take part in the ambush are the ones who are often in the offensive. Once the signal is rung, the ones waiting on the outside of the roof break in through the windows and as much as possible kill all the guards—those guards are not other than the Reds." I instruct.

"So what is the signal?" Siegfried.

"Once you see smoke spewing out of the windows and the open balcony doors—that's the signal." I reply, "The Assassins inside the mansion, unfortunately, are only limited to carry at least three to four smoke bombs depending on how many can be strapped at the back of your belts underneath your coats so that the guards wouldn't notice. If we can, we can add one more for each in decoy purses."

"Will we be able to use Phantom Blades?" Octavien.

"We'll have to enter the ball partially unarmed—which means we have to hide this underside of the bracer under our sleeves to think that they are just regular gloves but we have to load them up before the real thing begins—and we cannot bring swords inside."

I search for the blueprint of that particular map of Tuileries amongst the countless scrolls and stacks of parchments, once I found it I laid it flat on the table in the middle of the second platform of the study hall and then pinpointed the locations where the ambushers wait and where the ones in disguise will enter.

Everyone piled up to look at the map—like the church sculpture picturing an army of angels and cherubs looking down on the infant Christ lying down on the manger—then pointed out several parts of the map, gliding my gloved finger across the paper tracing the lining of the drawn streets to make it clear for everyone. Then I instructed them that the ones who will be part of the break-in will carry a spare sword for the ones inside the mansion—Felix and Siegfried will be part of the ambush, they volunteered to carry our swords (mine and Arno's—the Sword of Eden), Adrien vowed to carry Octavien's favorite partisan.

"Bring the partisan with golden scrolls at the base of the rod." Octavien says jokingly but he was serious, "Even my weapon has to look its best when attending a party." He adds.

With the Assassins designated for the ambush, it was a lot of them considering that we are going to attack Templars in the middle of a party in a noble's mansion. Besides, they were the experts of infiltration so it was no problem for them. But for us, the attendees of the ball need some nice aristocratic-looking suits and for me, a dress. I never really imagined myself attending a ball but this only happens once in a lifetime so might as well not take it for granted. Well, at least for once I get to dress like a princess. Just for once.

"Adjourned."

We come back upstairs into the mansion, even getting for ball is a bit of a work too. I was supposed to go to my bedroom to check the wardrobe if there are any dresses that fit for the ball although I don't have a mask. Arno was holding my hand when we were going up the stairs and when I was about to go to my bedroom, he wasn't letting go when I was already heading my way to the room.

"What is it, Arno?"

"Are you nervous?"

"Nervous for what? I am practically getting ready for this."

"No, that's not it," he takes steps to get closer to me, he's beginning to seal the space between us, "There seems to be like something bothering you. What is it?"

"It's nothing, Arno. I promise." I reassured him by standing on my toes and kissing his forehead.

"Alright. I'll be in my room if you need me."

I nodded with a smile, went in my room and that is where I began to panic as I sit down by my dresser.

My period is late. It was supposed to be a week ago.

Then I began to overthink...

_This is normal for women like me, right?_

_I can't be..._

_I can't be pregnant._

_Not now._

My heart pounded in the quickest pace ever, as though any moment now it's going to explode through my chest and kill me, I was slowly becoming short of breath as I reassess things and try to recall what my mother has taught me about my monthly occasion when I first got it, I try to remember the things she said when I was asking questions about how does a mother get her baby and how she does not get it in most chances; I was in sheer panic.

It's not that I don't want a child at all, rather it's that I don't want to risk a child in my womb being exposed to the numerous dangers that I could involve it with that could lead to me losing it. I don't want to risk losing it when I fight Xavier.

_But what will Arno say? What would he do?_

_Would he leave me or ignore me once he finds out that I'm quick with child and he's the father?_

Whenever we were out together, I had occasional cramps—I was still expecting that it was my period because I normally had cramps but when it was unusually painful to the point that I needed some seconds off and that my jumps weren't the usual, that is when I began to assume that I was indeed pregnant but I shook off the idea because it was impossible... but I was wrong.

_Could I really be pregnant? How will I handle the child?_

_No... Don't be irrational, Celestine!_

I took a deep breath yet I found myself sobbing. Not knowing what to do, what to say, whom to tell it.

Surely Juliette would understand but she wouldn't know how to handle the situation either. If I ask one of the maids to see if I was really pregnant, they might spread out some gossip that I was pregnant. With each option I narrow down, I find it hard to make another option.

I calmed myself down after nearly half an hour of crying and I have already shushed down when I heard a knock on my door—expecting it to be Jacob but it was only one of the maids.

" _Mademoiselle_?"

"Come in," I tell her and the door opens.

"Would you be needing anything for tonight's ball?"

Sure, even the maids made a big deal out of this party—is it because they're delighted to dress, adorn and decorate us? Probably.

"Well, it's a masquerade—Arno, Octavien and I will be the ones needing masks."

"We don't have masks,  _mademoiselle_ , but I can ask the houseboy to fetch some for you from the merchant."

"Make it quick."

Before she could even leave the premises of my bedroom, I stopped her, I didn't need to address her name (yes, I know it's somehow rude of me), "Oh and make sure that the other maids don't fiddle with Arno too much."

"Err... Y-Yes,  _madame_  Celestine."

" _Bien_.  _Tu peux partir maintenant_."

I'm glad she got my point quickly, when the door closed I walked to my wardrobe to check if there are any suitable dresses that I could wear to the ball. Shuffling through the closet and pulling away five dresses from each other, something blue and slightly sparkly caught my eye so I took it out of the wardrobe and got a look of it.

_It was beautiful. The dress was beautiful._

It wasn't like the typical noblewoman gown with enormous petticoats—I never liked those anyway—the skirt goes straight down without any frame underneath the fabric though the extended hem sweeps across the floor, china blue French lace was embroidered on the sheer chiffon layer of the dress which I believe it's the primary material of the outer layer whilst the inner layer consisted of soft silk; the sleeves were flowy and flares from the elbow down—which gives me the advantage to wear my bracer and I know I have some spare plates that I could wear on the bracer so that it would not be obvious as a weapon rather it'd look like a regular ornamental gauntlet—and the neckline was in the form of an overlapping wrap securely pinned with an orchid corsage. I had a full-body mirror just right next to my wardrobe and thought what hairstyle would suit the dress; but of course I still have to keep my armaments underneath my skirt so I guess I'll have to keep my black boots and greaves—they'll never notice anyway—and I'll just have to wear my thigh-belt for the necessary items like ammunition for the Phantom Blade.

I laid the dress down flat on my bed, ready for tonight and then dug through my drawer for the spare plates so that I could customize my bracer then readied my boots at the far end of my bed and paced around my room, not knowing what to do next then I realized that Arno could be trying out some dress shirts and coats right now so I thought of paying him a visit.

Still thinking about what I assumed, I try to shrug it off whenever the thought comes deeper into my mind—causing me to overthink again—then when I found that Arno's bedroom door is open, it quickly dissolves in my mind and now my curious mind is going over the question why his door is open. I step inside—somehow ready to throw a maid into the river—and found Arno shuffling through hangers and hangers of coats and dress shirts in his wardrobe the same way I did with mine. I knocked gently on his door, he does a side-glance and stops his shuffling to acknowledge my presence—he acknowledged it more as he walks away from his closet then to me.

"Having a hard time picking what to wear,  _amore_?"

"Not really, no."

I brushed off a loose lock of hair drooping to his forehead and my fingers touched sweat, I raised an eyebrow at him while I pursed my lips into a smirk, " _Vraiment_?"

"Alright, but I'm just having trouble which coat goes nicely with the dress shirt."

"And here I thought women were the ones who get a hard time which dress goes with those shoes." I chuckled as I take his hand and drag him back to the wardrobe, "You know you should be going for subtle colors."

"Subtle colors like what?" he sits on the bed, watching me rummage through his cabinet.

"Black, gray, dark green or dark blue."

"Oh, so that's a woman's definition of subtle?" he smirks.

"I have my own definitions as well,  _tesoro._ " I gave him a quick, playful kiss then continue working on picking a suit for him tonight and I swore that at the corner of my eye he was smirking suggestively, I just pretended not to notice.

I grabbed a black coat, a navy blue vest, and a neat white dress shirt, his breeches were the dark brown pair and I let him pick his boots and greaves.

"Can you please try this on while you're still wearing the bracer?" I ask him as I take the black trenchcoat.

He stands up from the bed, takes a step closer to me then I hand the coat to him, "Yes, this does go with the navy blue vest."

"Oh, so I'm your doll now?"

"Not really." I chuckled.

"Can I see your dress?"

"It'll have to wait until tonight."

He groaned childishly and then I calmed him down while chuckling, I kissed his forehead as he wrapped his arms around the small of my back.

"The maids seem a little intimidated by you though."

"It's because I told them not to fiddle with you too much once you start getting ready for tonight."

"Look, not even the maids can lay a finger on my skin."

"I'm not taking any chances though."

He chuckles—that gentle chuckles that rings and echoes into my ears then give me goosebumps in a good way—then pulls me closer to a hug.

We checked on everyone back downstairs via the passage to the Brotherhood, most of them were readying out their weaponry; carefully choosing which one is best and which is economical for himself—whether to limit himself to a certain number of bombs or knives or take as much as he can because who knows what could happen in that party.

 _A lot of things are bound to happen in that ball._   _Most of them aren't good ones._

The pace of the day felt slow, all of us were saving our energy for tonight. Then I went back up to the mansion to speak with Madame Gouze, asking her some favors for our plan, in the first place this plan was never easy to execute—because it was a full effort for us Assassins. I was hopeful that this could be the day wherein I finally erase Xavier's existence in history before his name becomes inked on history books forever. But when I realized that I can't be too sure, I rushed back downstairs to the Brotherhood—giving Arno a slight panic until I explained myself and then come running up to the stairs.

"There's a slight change of plans." I burst in.

They all turned to me, I anticipated their expressions would be vexed faces, pulled eyebrows and exasperated groans but I heard and saw none of those.

"What is it?" Siegfried.

"We cannot assure that the guards will just be inside, they'll be on the premises of the mansion—that includes the gates, the gardens, everything."

"So, what's the new plan?" Octavien.

"The assault team will divide—most of the assault team members stay on the roof as planned, while some would take down the guards by the gates then go back up but make sure that the exterior premises are clear of guards so that they'll be cut short of reinforcements."

"But all the guards will be scattered across all over the entire mansion—some would be even staying in some rooms or corridors." Felix.

"But the ring of the bell is enough for them to be alerted." Siegfried.

"The range of the sound is not as wide as you think, it may be only limited to just a certain floor or portion of the mansion but we can't be too certain for now so as much as possible we clear out the guards."

"Wait, Celestine,"

"Yes?"

"Do we stay on the level ground or do we go back up?"

This Assassin is probably part of the ambush, it's good that he's asking questions to make things clear.

"That depends, it's good to balance the ones above and the ones on level ground but…"

They all leaned forward, waiting for the next thing I say.

"We need to lessen the guards on the patrol—if and only if you infiltrated the mansion quietly, wipe them out as many as you can—and regroup back up or find the rendezvous point, remember: where there's clamor, there's Assassins and Templars clashing swords against each other."

They're capable enough to figure those out but I asked them who are the ones who will voluntarily infiltrate and wipe out the patrol then regroup with the others, one by one they were raising their hands and speaking for themselves for the infiltration team—it will be a short-lived operation as they will return with their Brothers to execute the master plan. When all was understood and set, the meeting was adjourned then Arno and I returned back upstairs.

The sun wasn't generous with its heat, it was blazing outside that is why most of the citizens are in the safety of the shade whether it is in their homes or a roofed shelter somewhere in the street—such as a canopy—while we stayed just within the vicinity of the Brotherhood; I stayed in the desolation of my bedroom, sitting down next to my dress while staring blankly at the window, time after time I would look at almost anything anywhere in my room—my dresser, my wardrobe, the nightstand, the mirror, anything that I could lay my eyes on. My eyes and mind were wandering together.

_Each object would remind me of my memories of him._

_My dresser—I remember when he gave me my necklace. His delicate fingers dancing on my neck, the fingertips slyly crawling down to the groove between my collarbones._

_The mirror—where I always see not only myself but him standing right next to me or towering behind me. His mouth would curve up to a smirk and he would fixate his gaze on me—not the threatening gaze but the gentle one._

_The nightstand reminds me of those nights when we were together under the covers. Warm and loving. Romanticized lust at its finest. He held my legs ever so gently, caressed my skin as he reached the point of pleasure._

Although there is one thing I feared during most of those nights…

It's the fear of knowing that he'll  _never_  be there  _again_  beside my bed… if all fails tonight.

_Fermare questo, Celestine._

Unconsciously my hand crawls down my lower abdomen, trying to get a feel of it but at the same time, I'm so afraid to do so, not long enough before I could feel at least a small thump from the inside I pull my hand away and tried to stop thinking about it.

Not long enough, the same maid whom I asked a favor to buy some ball masks came back and comes holding a medium box.

" _Mademoiselle,_  the masks are here."

" _Va bene._  There should be one for me, for Arno and for Octavien."

"It's just the right amount,  _mademoiselle_ Celestine."

She unlatches the bronze lock of the box and there were three ball masks lined horizontally next to each other while cushioned on dark purple velvet. All three almost looked identical but I believed that the black one looked feminine, it's soft to the touch so I thought it must be suede then I examined the entirety—the framing near the eyes were beautifully winged, at the right temple part of it were ornate golden feathers embedded there and it was lined with small crystal beads—it was the type of mask that only covers the upper half of the face. However, the two others were metallic silver with golden linings at its trims though they differed from the color of the feathers and how much the mask covers the face; the first one had maroon feathers and it fully covers from forehead down to the nose whilst the other had black feathers—as black as a crow's—and it was similar to the shape of the black one but their material was somehow unusual, it's like leather because I could see the fine-line creases but it looked thin—it's impressive craftsmanship.

"These are beautiful. Where did you get these?" I asked her.

"I know a merchant who makes the masks and sells them, she is just within the  _cité_ … She's my cousin,  _mademoiselle._ "

"She's talented, I'll give you that. They're so beautifully crafted."

"She does it by hand, miss."

"I see. Thank you and your cousin. Leave it there on my dresser," she nods obediently as she immediately follows but I stopped her as I reached for my pocket, "Here—for the both of you."

" _M-Madamoiselle!_   _Je ne peux pas accepter cela."_

"No, this is something to give to you and your cousin. Thank you for your help tonight."

" _D-Di rien, mademoiselle._ "

" _Va bene,_ I'll have a word with Madame Gouze."

"She is by the bar,  _mademoiselle._ "

" _Merci._ "

As I went out of the bedroom, I hurried downstairs and found her easily sitting alone in the couch, watching tonight's recital from where she sits—away from the patrons, probably thinking that the area where the customers sit is where she doesn't involve herself with them.

I walk up to her and she turns her head to me, acknowledging me and before I could even say anything she gestures me to the seat across her. I made myself comfortable then I stare straight at her, her attention drawn to me.

"What is it, dear? Any favors to ask from me?"

"Will it charge me anything if we use the carriage?"

"Who are the passengers?"

"Octavien, Arno and I."

"Ah, this must be the ball that you'll be attending in Tuileries, no?"

" _Exacte_."

"Well, technically it's ours so I believe I don't have to charge you anything for that.  _Il suffit de ne pas rayer_." She was firm on the last part.

" _Bien sûr, je ne veux pas_."

"Well then, I suppose everything is settled for tonight's endeavor?"

"It'll have to wait. Before sunrise, we will prepare."

"Be safe—all of you."

For once I never saw her this concerned, I saw it in her eyes and then she managed a smile although her lips with pursed but I see the genuine vibe of it. I politely dismissed myself, thanking her for concerning our safety and then I went back to the second floor only to find Juliette on her way to my bedroom.

"Juliette?"

"Celestine!" she walks up to me while I was still on the stairs, then she grabs my hand and helps me get to the second floor.

"What is it?"

"I heard you're attending a ball tonight!"

"I'm not going there for fun, Juliette. It's a mission and we're just doing that as our cover."

"Oh, but can I be the one to fix your hair? And powder your face?"

I chuckle, "Alright, alright you can. But I'll call you when it's time. It's still in the afternoon and it doesn't start until," I looked at the clock next to the paintings, "Six."

"Alright, I'll get ready for you thirty minutes before!" she excitedly squeals and she begins to hop right in front of me while holding my hands and when she stopped, she begins to visualize her style on me, "Oh, we could curl the ends of your hair some more and then keep it to one side, secure it with a few pins on the other side so that all of the hair is swept to the… uhh, which side do you like to have all the hair there?"

"Uhh, left… I suppose."

"Ooh! I can make a braid underneath so that it's extra secure and then pin it then the curls would be secure and won't fall off. What do you think?"

"I think that's nice but you're getting a bit too excited for it, calm down, Juliette—you'll get fun sooner or later."

I'm surprised how fast her mood changed from excited to worried—and I know whom she's worried about.

"You're worried for Adrien, aren't you?"

"You'll keep them safe, won't you?"

"Juliette, you perfectly understand that I cannot guarantee everybody's safety in the mission. The only thing we can do is trust on their training, their skills and tact. I'm sure that he'll never let himself get in harm's way—because he knows he has someone waiting for him to come back home:  _you._ "

I caressed her hair, reassured her and hugged her, "Hey, chin up. Everything will be alright. You should be telling that to him too—it's more direct and… romantic."

"Where is he?"

"I believe he's underground but you may wait for him by the stair landing."

"Alright." Her smile returned and before she comes down the stairs to the passage.

I watched her by the railings of the second floor foyer, at the part where I can see the passage and then I saw them meet halfway just when Juliette reached the bottom of the stairs and threw herself in Adrien's arms.

_I watched over, not because I wanted to pry, but because I wanted to see a sight of lovers about to part—even if it's just for a night—and in my mind, I felt like I needed to witness or at least feel some romance. Not for malicious reasons, but for reasons of delight and giddy—just to take off the tension._

_It feels like everybody is scared._

_I won't be parted from him. I'll make sure I won't._

_In time, I'll have to grasp the reality that I am quick with a child. His child._

_But what's in my head right now is the mission… and to terminate Xavier like the leading parasite that he is._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRENCH:
> 
> Tu peux partir maintenant. - You can go now.
> 
> Vraiment? – Really?
> 
> Je ne peux pas accepter cela. – I can't accept this.
> 
> Exacte. – Correct.
> 
> Il suffit de ne pas rayer. – Just don't scratch it.
> 
> Bien sûr, je ne veux pas. – Of course, I won't.
> 
> ITALIAN:
> 
> Fermare questo – Stop this.


	41. Getting Ready

**Celestine's POV**

"You know you need to unwind,  _amore_ ," Arno, "Look at how much of the hours we have."

I looked through his paned door that leads to the balcony garden—interconnecting with the armory—he's got a point, the sunlight pooling through the room is enough a proof to tell that we had enough time to spare for ourselves before we oversee the preparations.

He locked the door and started to fill the tub.

_Oh, I know where this is going._

_That cunning, handsome smirk on his face says it all._

"Let's wait for the water to fill, shall we?"

"And while we wait?" I swung along with his little tactics.

"Well, we'll see about that." He buries his fingers in my hair, pulled me in for a kiss and his lips caress mine.

Carefully pulling me close to him, his free hand wrapped around the small of my waist and closed the gap between us. I felt his hard-on thumping lightly against my lower stomach, I'm sure he's felt it, he just pretends that he doesn't feel it when it's so noticeable.

I raked my fingers through his hair for good measure as his tongue explores my mouth. He lifts me by the thighs, brings me down gently to bed, and stands on all fours over me as I begin to unbutton his dress shirt—while doing so, he nibbles my neck but his tongue feels to be strolling up to my earlobe.

_Smug bastard knows my weak points, doesn't he?_

Without my control, I mewled at the sensation of his lips playing on my earlobe which signaled him to play some more, his hands crawled on my stomach, slipping underneath the fabric and reaching for my breasts; his thumbs softly dabbed on the skin of my breasts while his mouth trailed to my jaw.

"The bath…" I mutter.

"What? Oh. The bath."

He stopped the drawing of water into the tub, goes back to me only to give me a quick nibble on the neck and takes off his coat, I grab him gently by the shirt and continue unbuttoning him while I lock my lips with him. For a fair trade, he strips off  _my_  own shirt.

"You think I'm the only one bathing?" he smirks.

I smirked as soon as I figured out his notion.

"You get in the bath first!" I laughed.

He tries to stand up but I stopped him only to bite his lower lip just to tease him some more, he gladly played along but quickly pulled away to get to the bath. He takes off his clothes and dips himself into the bath while I watch him from the bed.

"If the maids found out I drew the bath by myself, they'd be frantic." He comments to break the silence.

"Why would they be?"

"I don't know. I suppose they got so used to being given orders."

"Including drawing your bath?" I said jokingly.

He agreed to that. I stand up from the bed and begin to take off the outer layer of my clothing—particularly my coat and vest—from my peripheral vision I see him looking at me intently. Left with only my dress shirt and breeches, I shed that off of me as well, with only my laced tank top and underwear I approach the tub as I find his eyes following my every step—my every step closer to him.

"Why are you looking at me with those eyes?" I ask him.

He lifts a dripping wet hand from the water, warm fingers dabbed on my cheek and his thumb ran gently on my chin.

"I always see the Master Assassin with me, but I want to see my Celestine more."

His eyes trail from my eyes then to my lips. I nudge my cheek, pressing his palm into my face and holding onto his wrist.

"I'm here, my love. I'm here."

He leaned over the rim of the tub, his fingers carefully clutched onto my face and pulled me close to him to kiss me. The tenderness fiddling my lips, lust entering my mouth and there is the desire crawling on my skin.

"Come here!"

He snatched me, grabbing my waist and lifting me into the tub with him—causing water to splash out of the tub as I got in the water—I sat on his lap, secured me in his clutches and continued to patronize his growing lust. While we kiss, he manages to strip my top off, baring my breasts and triggered him; I try to control the volume of my voice when I moan while he plants wet kisses on the base of my neck, droplets of water—warmer than its real temperature—trickled down to my collarbones, to my breasts, to my stomach and down into the water again. He leans forward, below my neck, then I moan as I felt his teeth gently nibbling on my breast; suckling on me tenderly as I felt my erogenous area being tapped on, the sensation traveled to my spine—like a swift shock injected spontaneously into the body—and I let out a moan, the sound of me moaning is obviously music to his ears. His thumb touches my lip and while looking into his eyes passionately, I bite the tip of his thumb.

We soon had each other's hair wet, with all the caressing with our hands dipped into the water, pulling away between kisses and just simply smiling and gazing into each other's eyes—it truly felt like time has stopped for a moment. When the lust subsided for a while, we were sitting on opposite sides of the tub and passing the time.

"I wonder how everything will go." Arno.

"Nobody really knows but… everyone seems to be anticipating it. There's only one way to find out." I reply as I stare blankly at the distorted image of my hands underwater.

"Our Brothers know that they had it coming. They will gladly take the risk—it's what we are trained for anyway, right? We're trained as Assassins."

"Do you think that this will be the last battle, Arno?"

"One would think. One would hope."

Those words rang and haunted my mind, my hand gently waved underwater and made ripples, then I heard him say my name, I look at him and his arm was reaching out to me—I knew that he wants me to crawl up to him and cuddle to his side.

"This is just what we needed."

"I wish this would be over soon."

"It will be." He reassures me, kissing my forehead so as to comfort me.

_I still don't have the strength to tell him. I can't even tell him that I may have the possibility to be with child._

As soon as we finished bathing, the clock struck, its heavy toll echoed across the mansion—as far as the foyer of the bar—we knew that it's time for us to get prepare.

"I have to go back to my room," I tell Arno as soon as I got dry and put on my dress shirt and britches, "Juliette wants to fix me up."

"Can I see you get fixed up?"

"Where's the surprise in that?" I joked lightly.

I went back to my room to get drier and fresher clothes—from the undergarments to the very clothes that I wear, of course.

It was an hour and a half before the time of the ball so it was best we be ready. I made certain that I see the Assassins in the underground, going down the stairs and walking through the candlelit tunnel, I jogged to the stairs—even though I perfectly knew that I am still assuming that something is growing inside me—and saw to the Assassins readying themselves, doing the reviewing of the plan at the last minute and sharpening their weapons.

They all turned to me as I arrived at the top of the staircase gasping for air, I caught their attention away from what they were doing in the first place.

"Celestine, are you all right?" one Assassin asked, his gloved hands delicately carrying his sword.

"Yes," I exhaled, "I'm fine. Thank you. I was just about to check on you."

"Why? Are we leaving now?"

"No, no, not yet—but it's best you get ready, the ones who'll infiltrate need the most time in getting ready."

"Is it because you have to wear a dress?" the Assassin jokes lightly.

I chuckle back, sharing the same humor, "I believe so. I must go back upstairs."

I went to Juliette's room as soon as I got back to the mansion, well, it would be a pity if I did not give her the chance to fix me up. Why not, right? Just pamper the inner lady of me.

"Juliette?"

"Yes?"

I open the door and found her sitting by her dresser, seeming like picking which hairbrush to use on me and whatnot, I enter her room and sit by the strongbox at the end of her bed.

"Oh, are you getting ready now, cousin?" she says enthusiastically as she stands up from the dresser seat.

"Well, yes, I am. I mean, I told them to—"

"Oh come now, be excited, Celestine! You are attending a ball—your first one too!—might as well look at it that way than a mission, no?"

Come to think of it, she's right, I have been so caught up in orchestrating the plans and everything that I forget that I should at least have fun—I've done it a million times: playing around in the middle of the mission, it's our way of unwinding especially through the times of tension, it was one way we could feel that we could rectify the corruption in the city, the way I enjoy being an Assassin. I don't exactly know what to feel when it's your first time going on an occasion like this but I have to admit that I am quite excited to try the dress on.

"You're right, Juliette," I smile genuinely, "Come on, I readied my dress in my room."

I take her hand and drag her out of the room, we skipped across the second floor heading to my bedroom, practically bursting my doors open and then showing her the dress I picked out from the wardrobe. Her mouth became rounded and agape, she walked towards the dress and glided her fingers on the soft chiffon fabric.

"It's beautiful, Celestine!"

"I can't believe they have something this beautiful in the wardrobe."

"You mean you have never looked into your own wardrobe ever since?" she said it with pure disbelief, I suppose she should have figured that being feminine or lady-like—whatever it is that society calls it—is not technically my forte. I was raised with swords and horses with Assassin parents, remember?

I simply shook my head as a response.

"Well, don't bother, we need to get you fixed."

_It suddenly came to mind that I still haven't told her that I could be pregnant, but no, I have to be sure first… before giving everybody—as in EVERYBODY—a false alarm. That would be embarrassing now, wouldn't it?_

Juliette made me sit down in front of my dresser's mirror but there was a gap between me and the top of the dresser—it was like that on purpose so that I can still see myself while my cousin fixes up my face and hair. The process of fixing me up was a really long one. I can list all the things that my cousin did to me in order to make my disguise as a noblewoman attending a ball quite convincing—other than using the mask to cover up half of my identity.

She powdered my face first before applying something on a brush, says that it'll make my cheeks rosier.

She lightly dips a thinner brush—as fine as a painter's—into a small bottle of pinkish liquid and made careful light strokes on my lips.

Over her shoulder, I see myself in the mirror but only a small fraction of my face could be seen—I saw the rosiness Juliette was telling me when she was stroking the brush softly on my cheeks—the powder did not do much in changing the color of my skin and I am so glad that it turned out that way otherwise I would look like a mime in a dress.

"Alright, the eyes will be a little tricky but I know how to do this," Juliette tells me as she takes out two black glass cylinders.

"What are those?" I ask her, it's obvious that I am asking this so quizzically because I absolutely haven't a slight understanding of most of those things she is holding and using on me.

_I honestly only know the powder and the red pigment that ladies put in their mouths—those are the only other things I know besides fixing my hair into elaborate braids._

"These are for the eyes, to make them look more striking."

"Why does it have to be two of them?"

"One for the eyelashes and one to line your eyes."

"Don't use the one for the eyelashes, Juliette,  _s'il vous plaît_."

She sighs, but not in exasperation, she apparently knows that I am not the same type of young woman she is, "Oh, all right, cousin. I'll make this lighter for you."

" _Merci._ "

"Moving on."

She spun the other half of the black cylinder, attached to the inside of the cover was a thinner brush—much thinner than the one used on my lips—she dipped into the second half and the liquid dangling on the brush seems to have gotten thicker.

"Close your eyes, but relax them."

I did what I was told and I could feel cold, thick liquid being carefully painted on my eyelids, I felt the finishing touch of that finely-tipped brush with the flick of Juliette's wrist—I felt it twice, it felt equal and perfect and I was certain I felt my heart flutter a little. Maybe it's just a little girl's giddy, when her fantasies of fairy tales have come true for once. I should be grateful.

"We're almost done. Now, with your hair, how do you want me to do it?"

I was looking at her straight in the eye when she was asking me that and now my eyes dropped to the floor, looked around until I found myself staring back at my reflection in my dresser mirror but it was not the usual me that I see in the mirror—what I see is a pampered face, refined with powder and lip pigment, eyes lined with black liquid that resulted to making it appear like a regal Egyptian queen although it really  _did_ make my eyes strike out, I have to admit.

I titled my head in a profile's angle—both left and right—imagined what my hair would look like until I remembered what she seemed to have forgotten.

"Wait, you did tell me that you were going to set all my hair to one side and secure it with a braid underneath, right?"

"Oh, that's right, I did! I almost forgot, glad you reminded me."

She benignly brushed all my hair so that I won't get tangles, then she sets them all aside to the left and begins to take a strip of hair on the very bottom rim of my scalp—I could presume that that will be the part she'll be doing the braid.

From the mirror, I see how intently she braids my hair, I saw the movement of her eyes—every inch of movement of her pupils—then I observe the sleight of her fingers, I could imagine how light and quick her joints would move and pull like how needle pulls a thread.

"We're almost done, I just need to secure the end of the braid." Juliette.

"Go ahead."

Afterwards, she steps back from me so she can take a few good looks at her masterpiece.

"There, you're beautiful."

"I suppose it's time to put on the dress then?"

"Of course."

I shed off my dress shirt, baring myself in just a laced tank top and lifting up the dress from the bed. Juliette tosses it upside-down so the back part is facing and removes a single pearl button, then she holds it up on the shoulder part and turns to me but I was quite surprised that she shot me a look of disbelief.

"You're wearing  _that_?!"

"Wearing what?" I say, rather confused and unsure of what she's referring.

"Your britches! It's inappropriate to wear a pair of pants underneath a dress!"

"But, I needed a piece of my outfit to carry my smaller weapons."

"No, that won't do—and it will look awfully noticeable. Stockings would be much more appropriate than britches."

"Well, what would you have me do?"

"Hmm," there was a pause between us, "Do you still have those belts that you can strap around your thighs?"

"Well, uh, yes."

"How many do you have?"

"Two or three, I think."

"How about strap one on each leg—surely they have holsters for your small blades?"

"Yes, they do."

"Good, use them. What else weapons are you using?"

"My bracers, but I modified its plates so it's not too… bulky."

She found the bracers lying on my nightstand and she seems to have gotten my point when I said I modified it.

"Well, at least the sleeves are wide and concealing. Well, wear some stockings and your boots, then wear the belts for your thighs."

I wore opaque black stockings and my usual boots and greaves. I simply opened the drawer in my nightstand and snagged the two leather leg-straps, I wore one on my left thigh with ammunition for the Phantom Blade and the right strap held extra blades and the occasional dagger.

"All right, time to wear these before wearing the bracers." Juliette.

She helped me put on the dress, carefully putting it on and securing that pearl button at the back and gave me a few seconds to get the hang of the dress. She obliged to hold my sleeves as I wear both of my bracers and then tried to cover them up with the sleeves and it worked.

Overall, the entire outfit looked beautiful.

"There. You are  _truly_  beautiful, Celestine."

"Thank you. Thank you, Juliette." I rewarded her with a hug and I felt her hug me back.

I looked at myself in the mirror and felt the transformation. This isn't bad at all. It's actually fun.

"And we just finished way ahead of time," I told her.

"Do you want to see what Arno looks like?"

"I'd rather keep the element of surprise there."

We both share a hearty laugh, like two little girls playing dress-up and princesses, as if nothing was ever done to crush our spirits and break our hearts. Two innocent cousins having a quality bonding moment, reliving the inner children in us at this kind of age. Some may think this is ridiculous and childish, but to me, it's all that I have left to have memories with; something to cherish and not take for granted, because I feel like this plan is the biggest plan we Assassins have ever orchestrated yet.

_It's almost time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRENCH:
> 
> s'il vous plait – Please.


	42. Subtle Infiltration

_1796, October 13._

_An hour left before the party._

While Juliette was busy dolling up her older cousin, at the same moment Arno was getting himself dressed up as well but he did not need much fixing up. He wore the outfit that Celestine had picked out for him and gets himself dressed.

Now that he has already gotten himself in his gala coat—not that it had any difference with his Assassin robes—with all his supply of Phantom Blades packed secretly underneath the jacket, he waits for Celestine to come out somehow both excited and anxious as if it's his first time seeing her again, then his mind went to the plan . His strategy for concealing them was wearing a belt with the holsters at the back of the waist—it could fit eight blades—and inside the inner pockets of his coat were smoke bombs. They had to make do with how much consumable tools they can bring in undetected.

As for his bracers, his sleeves were tucked into the gauntlets as its plates would give out an ornamental look—anybody would mistake it for a common cuff—the plates weren't too big as it would make Arno uncomfortable but the plates he replaced with the original ones gave a lightweight feel but a deceiving look which helps a lot either way.

"I think I should wait outside now," Arno mumbles to himself until a knock is heard.

"Arno?" it was Octavien knocking on his door.

"Come in."

Octavien opens the door but does not go inside the room, "Oh, seems that you're ready, Brother."

Looking at Octavien, he wore a dark green jacket with coattails trailing down until the calves—fortunately it won't obstruct his leg movements once he meets combat—underneath the jacket is a beige vest and a white dress coat, matched with dark gray britches and his usual boots that he wears even in his Assassin duties. As for his bracer, his has been originally very light—not as bulky as the others' armaments—for he has heavily relied on most of his selection of long-type weapons whenever he roams the city so it was not much of a problem for him to conceal it although he hid it underneath his sleeve.

"Won't that slice through the sleeve, Octavien?" Arno asks when he notices his Brother's style of concealing the gauntlet.

"No, I've tried that earlier—it works out fine. Come on."

"Is Celestine out of the room yet?"

Octavien shakes his head.

 _Wow, she really put on the element of surprise, didn't she?_  He thought to himself as he follows Octavien to the door. Both went downstairs and waited for the muse to come out of her room, to pass the time Octavien paced back and forth while Arno leans at the post at the bottom of the stairs' handrail, in between the minutes he would flip open his father's pocketwatch and gaze at the stuck hand ticking on the same numeral for so many years. The maid—who has a mask craftswoman for a cousin—was on her way to the stairs until she found Octavien and Arno.

" _Monsieur_  Arno,  _Monsieur_ Octavien," she acknowledges.

"Excuse me, but are you going upstairs?"

" _Oui, monsieur_."

"Can you please check on Celestine?"

"I believe she's almost ready,  _monsieur._ "

"All right, thank you. But do ask."

She nods and heads upstairs.

"You're quite the gentleman, aren't you, Arno?"

"Haven't I always?" he replies cheekily.

"No, not really." Octavien replies, sounding like a half-joke but both boys chuckled at the remark.

Meanwhile, Celestine looks at herself in the mirror one more time, turning around to check the other side of herself in her entire outfit, then a knock came to her door so Juliette answered it for her—turns out it was the maid.

"Milady?"

"Yes?"

" _Monsieur_  Arno is waiting for you now. Are you finished getting ready?"

"Of course, tell him I'll be downstairs shortly."

She does a quick but polite bow and does what she's told.

"I think I should go with the maid, to keep the element of surprise intact, hm?" Juliette.

"Oh, cousin." Celestine smiles as her cousin walks out the door.

Celestine herself finally steps out of her room but waits just right outside of it as she listens to the footsteps and voices downstairs, she just saw Juliette going down the flight of stairs after the maid. When Juliette met the eagerly-waiting Arno and Octavien—but mostly Arno—at the middle landing of the staircase, she hurries down to the bottom and tries to console him.

"She's ready. Give her a few moments, all right?" she simply says and then steps back.

On the perfect timing, Celestine—with her heart beating and swallowing the anxious lump in her throat—pinches her fingers to remove the tension and finally takes a step closer to the first stair then she makes her way down. As soon as she was near the middle landing of the staircase, she found Arno leaning against the pole of the handrails with his back turned to her—yet she still kept going but slowly and carefully—when she within the sight of the three, Juliette—who was probably talking to Arno in an attempt to keep him from looking at the stairs because it might ruin the excitement of the surprise—shifted her attention from Arno to the young woman descending the stairs, when that got noticeable Arno followed the cousin's line of sight…

Behold the beautiful, young woman he loves. The bride that he wanted so much more than anything in the world.

Like a princess, she carries a graceful aura. For the first time, Celestine appears in a ball gown before Arno's very eyes. He wouldn't miss this for anything in the world.

She descends slowly and carefully on the stairs as their eyes meet, like lovers falling for each other for the first time.

He looks at her lovingly, his eyes never went away from her shy yet tender smile. The fullness of her charm, not with malice but with the innocent sincerity of a true woman.

Her long, dark brown hair spills over her left shoulder, bringing out her eyes as she smiles at him. Celestine's allure enchanting him like a spell.

He doesn't realize that his gaping open mouth was curling up the edges as he watches her reach halfway to the stairs, he fixes his composure as she finally stops at the last step,

" _Amore_." He greets, and like a gentleman, he takes her hand and kisses it lovingly; then he looks up at her with that certain glint in his eyes accompanied with a cunning smirk that only the two of them get the hint.

"You look dashingly handsome tonight,  _amore._ " She tells him and they exchanged smirks.

Celestine slips her arm as she gets escorted by Arno, then out comes Octavien who seem to have come from the underground passage leading to the Brotherhood.

"My, don't you two look adorable." Octavien.

"You look dashing too, Octavien." Celestine comments.

"Thank you, Sister. You look nice tonight."

"Ah-ah, Octavien, don't take my lines for her." Arno jokes.

"I've already briefed the Brothers. They're ready."

"Brilliant."

" _Monsieur, mademoiselle?_  Your masks." The maid comes running from the hallway adjacent to the intendant's study and picks up the box containing the masks from a stool.

"Ah yes, we almost forgot."

The maid opened it for them and out of they took their masks, Celestine took the black one while Octavien and Arno possessed the silver ones. Arno had the one with black feathers while Octavien obviously took the one with maroon feathers. Before they could even put it on, their Brothers—Siegfried, Felix, and Adrien—burst out of the passage and found them dressed to the nines but they were much more surprised at Celestine's appearance.

"This quite a new sight for us to see from Celestine." Felix comments.

"Don't get any thoughts running, Felix."

"Hey, I wasn't!"

"Come now, I think it's  _everybody's_  first time to see me in a dress." Celestine.

"But I thought that sight was only for me." Arno childishly groans.

"We'll be together the whole night,  _amore._ " She consoles him.

"Be careful with my lance, Adrien. I'm the only one who has the right to scratch it." Octavien.

"Of course, Brother. It'll just be here safely strapped to me."

"Good. Wait, will we walk to the party?"

"No," Madame Gouze's voice rung in the first floor foyer by the staircase as she comes into the circle of Assassins, "I have arranged your ride for tonight. It will take you to the party and back here safely."

"Thank you."

"Ah, my dear Celestine, how beautiful you look tonight. But you're just as beautiful as always, my dear."

" _Merci, madame._ "

"Come, come, we mustn't keep the coach waiting."

"Good luck to all of us," Celestine tells all of them while on Arno's arm.

"Hey, there's no room for anxiety in here, Sister!" Siegfried says cheerfully and sees the three to the coach, where it's waiting safely in the fountain courtyard. "And don't worry, we have your weapons here, safe and sound!"

"Come on then." Octavien.

"To Tuileries!" Siegfried.

"Let's cut some Templar throats!" Felix.

Meanwhile, at the rear of the line, Adrien and Juliette exchange promises of waiting and coming back home to one another.

"The thought of it just frightens me, Adrien."

"Juliette, look at me," he tilts her chin up, leveling her eyesight to his, "I promise I'll come home."

"Promise me."

Adrien promised her as he kissed her long and hard, passionately and tenderly his lips pressed to hers. He's made a promise with a kiss and he dares not miss a thousand kisses from his lady.

" _Je t'aime_ , Juliette _._   _Je vais revenir à la maison pour vous._ "

"Adrien…" the delicate yet kindhearted Juliette throws herself in Adrien's arms and they part as his arm slips away from her tender clutch with every step he takes—the true bitterness of parting hinted with the burden it brings to both woman and man.

He looks back at her before he joins his Brothers and he manages a bitter smile.

Octavien, Celestine, and Arno board the coach while Adrien sits next to the driver while Siegfried and Felix hold on at the back, posing as chaperones.

"Ready?" Adrien calls from the coach's seat.

"Ready," Arno replies.

They heard the gentle crack of the reins and they were en route to Tuileries with their Brothers—merely fleeting shadows in the dark of the evening—tailing the carriage, they could not miss it though because it is probably the only carriage with two "chaperones" clinging on the back. They put on their masks while on the road and discuss their approach if ever the situation isn't what they expected.

"Siegfried, Felix, and Adrien will immediately head up to the roof once before we could even stop at the entrance, surely the others would see them already scaling the wall." Celestine.

"Surely they will give way once we arrive and the guards will not question us." Octavien.

"I don't mean to interrupt but I have this one question: What will the coach here say if you get halted by the guards?" Adrien.

"The Dukes and Duchess of… Uhh…" Octavien.

Siegfried knocked on the roof, asking for the three's attention collectively, "Hey, instead of giving yourselves a hard time we'll just take down the guards before they could even question you. We'll stay with the crowd so that we can get them from there, all right?"

"I… I was about to propose that, Siegfried." Octavien stammers, losing his serious composure.

"Sure you were, Octavien." Siegfried singsongs jokingly and they all chuckled.

The trip was awful silent, not one of them bothered to talk about anything inside and outside the carriage, this made the anxiety, tension, and nervousness churn up instead of easing it down. The ride was a full fifteen minutes and before the carriage could even stop exactly right in front of the guarded gates, Siegfried and Felix grunted as they hopped down the carriage and blend with the crowd close enough to drag the guards away from the gate.

The carriage slows down as soon as a guard raises his hand, signaling the cart to halt and the coach obeyed, waiting for Siegfried and Felix's action the three Assassins in the coach bore with the questioning of the guard.

"Guests' names?"

"Dukes and Duchess of Westminster, from London." Octavien.

"Your names, sir?"

"Duke Octavius, Duke Victor and Duchess Celeste." Octavien.

In the carriage, Celestine and Arno were shooting looks at their Brother who is doing the work of stalling the guards—but they were doing so because of the absurd fake names that he thinks and comes out of his mouth. He just made variants of their names—using Arno's second name for good measure! Fortunately for them, the curtains on the small window of the door of the cart are closed so they're not seen.

"Invitations, Sirs and Madam?"

Before they could even make the guards wait and become suspicious, Siegfried and Felix have individually dispatched the guards on both sides and threw them aside the gate—out of sight of the other guards—and Celestine thanked them through the window of the carriage door.

"Seriously, Octavien? Victor? Octavius?" Arno.

"Celeste!?"

"Hey, I think I did quite a good job there." He boasts.

"Good job stalling but bad at the name part." Celestine groans.

"That just hurts my feelings, Celestine."

They all ended up laughing as soon as the carriage proceeds. It halted just right by the main entrance of the mansion, they remained anonymous from the medley of extremists patrolling the yard thanks to their pretty formal disguises and the masks—it was their only way in—while in their hearts was the collective faith in their Brothers kept in the very chambers.

Upon entering the mansion, it was rather a different feel for them because they always enter mansion during their Assassin mission. Even though right now is a mission as well, part of it is being a pampered noble attending a high-class social gathering.

"All right, what now?" Octavien.

"Where there is music, there is the Templar Grandmaster." Celestine.

The three of them headed for the main ballroom, they tried to act natural so Octavien decided to go around and mingle. The room and even the hallways were spilling with guests of nobility but they seem to look the part thanks to their garments, Octavien—in his own tactic—was mingling, drinking and scanning the environment; there he found the guards scattered on the corridor but they certainly were not disguised or masked at all which is an easy find for the three of them—it will be an advantage for their Brothers waiting patiently on the roof so that there will be no civilian casualty.

Celestine wanted to go around and search for the Grandmaster but Arno did not want her to leave his side.

"We need to sabotage the alarm bells—it's in every corridor," Celestine whispers to Arno.

"Octavien and I will do that, as for you stay within range."

"You know where to find me, I'll be looking around. But we don't kill anyone yet."

"Understood. I'll see you later."

Celestine did not dare to go to the ballroom yet, she decided to stay in the hallways where the crowd is dense and helped herself with the wine.

 _Where is Xavier?_  Celestine thinks to herself as she takes a sip of sparkling wine.

Amongst the tittering of the women, the bellow of the men joking with one another, the inside chatter between the extremists in the same hall as she, Celestine attempts to listen very closely and carefully—in the hopes that she would hear at least the sound of Xavier or Lucius's voice.

_Are the musicians ready?_

She hears the most familiar voice. It was gentle-sounding but lifeless. Soft but threatening as it is subtly terrifying.

"That voice." Celestine whispers to herself, the utter shock caused her eyelids to shoot up, "Lucius." She whispers under the rim of her wine glass.

Meanwhile, Octavien and Arno were down to the last of the alarm bells within the vicinity of the main corridor.

"Do you think they've already taken down the guards in the other parts of the floor?" Arno.

"We best have faith in them and think so." Octavien.

On the eastern and western wings of the mansion, where guards were peering through the windows and looking down on the courtyard—watching whose carriages arrive—Siegfried stood on the western wing's rooftop while Felix stood on the eastern, with the entire party divided into their teams; they crouched down on the roof as they waited for only one guard to be left within their radius as they heard that each guard has a couple of companions in their floor.

"Wait for us, we should not be long. Our focus on the floor where the ballroom is—where Celestine, Arno, and Octavien are." Siegfried.

They scurry down, hanging just right above the window pane, and waited for the right timing—it took some few seconds for them to finally enter the window with a good kicking in the guard's face and kill him before he could even make out a word.

As the second guard turns around, Siegfried and Felix—though in different sides—ran towards their second enemy, savoring the remaining seconds that these guards are still slightly startled as they are suspicious and with one jump, a blade is buried into the flesh and the dead silence meant safety.

When they cleared the block on their current floor, they ran back to the open window and then regrouped with their Assassins on the rooftop. The balcony and the open window were the most obvious points in the mansion, it spared the Assassins the time to even search for the open windows—the door to the balcony was open as well, which the Assassins think of a mistake for the Templars because it just gave them easy access—they got closer until they were standing by a safe distance from the vantage point.

Now all they have to do is wait for the smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRENCH:
> 
> Je vais revenir à la maison pour vous. – I will come back home to you.


	43. Thy Sin Is Thy Downfall

Octavien and Arno were still finishing the last of the alarm bells while Celestine was busy trying to monitor Lucius's position without looking at him because she knew that once she comes literally looking for him, the moment that their eyes would meet—she knew that Lucius would recognize her, it's a gut feeling and that he would immediately tell Xavier like a hound in obeisance to its master.

With the Assassins back on the roof again after clearing the lookouts by the windows in the east and west wing, they carefully looked through the thickness of the crowd—in search for their comrades disguised amongst the nobles—until they found Celestine who, of all the women in the party, is uniquely-dressed; after all, she isn't wearing a dress with wide skirts or hump-like petticoats because she never fancied any of those and she knows that it would only restrict her from combat since this plan of theirs requires  _every_  Assassin's capacity to fight.

Surely that they couldn't predict how many guards Xavier would have hired for his protection. The ones on both sides of the mansion are just the start, what more on the very ballroom?

"I see Celestine." Siegfried.

"Where are Octavien and Arno?" Felix.

"I don't know."

Amidst the hallways of the mansion, Celestine hides in plain sight, she sticks to the edge of a circle of women but keeps her drink and subtly scans the surroundings—counting how many guards are stationed in the hall and the very ballroom, how to eliminate them without alarming anybody in the room.

 _If I could just nick them while hiding in a cluster of people, they'll never see it coming._  Celestine thinks to herself but she needed Octavien and Arno to do the same so that the decrease of guards would occur faster.

With the last of the alarm bells sabotaged, Octavien and Arno briskly walk through the hall, rejoining Celestine; as soon as the three have regrouped, she immediately briefs them secretly—away from the radius of the guards.

"There are too many guards, I found Lucius, we need to dwindle the guards' number before I could even engage Lucius." Celestine.

" _You_?" Arno pressed on the word.

"It'll be chaotic if we charge him together—remember, we still have to find Xavier." Celestine, "Trust me on this."

"We start with the guards," Octavien, "We'll be behind you when getting to Lucius."

They executed the plan, one by one, they took down the guards. They hid behind the walls as they waited for the guard to reach them, they blended in small groups and snuck on them but the deadliest technique was poisoning their goblets. Of course, these guards were obliged to have food and drink to sustain themselves while on patrol, though it gave the Assassins a perfect opportunity to poison them. They did bring some Berserker blades—only to mix the venom coated on the tip into the drink and offer it to the unsuspecting guard.

With the guards in the hallway already taken care of, their next problem is the ballroom. The open windows would be a good escape route but the best one is the open balcony door, if only it wouldn't be so easy—but an Assassin's job is never too easy. Thankfully, in their case, the ballroom's windows were open so the smoke would easily spew through to be visible enough for the other Assassins to see.

"That's taken care of." Celestine.

"We'll wait for you by the entrance, we'll watch over you." Octavien.

"Be careful." Arno.

"I will."

She goes into the hallway, overhearing a couple of women complaining, "What time will the cotillion start?"

"I heard the host of this ball is rather a handsome one. Just about our age too." The first young lady's companion titters, within Celestine's earshot.

"So I've heard. I would fancy a dance with him." The friend promiscuously giggles.

But it's not only Celestine who heard about a cotillion, even the two men heard it from some of the guests. The plan becomes more and more improvised by the minute.

"I think I'll ask Celestine for a dance." Arno.

"Are you serious right now, Brother?"

"Why not? It's not every day we attend a ball."

Octavien's mouth curled up into a smirk, "Let alone get invited into one."

Both shared a brotherly laugh, then watched over Celestine—especially Arno with eyesight like an eagle's—brush through the crowd, but it's not only her who is being wary of her surroundings, even the both of them are; they're quite aware of anyone dresses suspiciously—and they'll know if it's Lucius or Xavier once they see it, given the fact that the five of them have personally engaged the Templar Grandmaster and his loyal chaperone.

Meanwhile, for Celestine, she decides not to mingle because there is barely time to do so. She continues on until she got a good view of the entirety of the ballroom—there was a small stage probably for the host to stand on and make his speeches and introductions, chances are Xavier himself will stand there, but the musicians were occupying one side of it, in front of the band stands a conductor's podium.

The people are scattered everywhere but left a portion of the dance floor open, in case they were waiting on the host to show up, Celestine steps in and looked around in search of Lucius or Xavier—she recalls the short exchange she heard between Lucius and the maestro of the musicians, she hypothesizes that the exchange must have happened in this very room.

"Now, where are you?" Celestine mutters under her breath, carefully turning her head to the other direction in search of her targets to avoid drawing attention as the woman who seems frantically lost in a sea of masked noblemen and women.

The guests in the ballroom had quite exotic masks yet they looked eerie, there were many kinds of them too; men and women wearing masks with a crow's beak—which reminded her of the plague doctors back in Italy and the ones in the storybooks that her parents read to her when she was younger—others had masks resembling a fox, some had their entire faces covered while others only show one-fourth or half of their faces either horizontally or vertically with the swirls of gold and silver and sprinkle of glitter and sequins misleading it into alluring and mysterious elegance. With each turn of the head, Celestine would find a glittery, colorful yet expressionless face looking back at her with blank, hollow eyes and plump, puckered lips of different colors not knowing whether their attention was at her or was she just imagining things.

Amidst the festivity, the grandeur and the mystery of tonight's party, there is one room restricted and unnoticed by everyone in the ballroom, the room where Xavier and Lucius are sheltered—hidden from the crowd as they put on their deceptive masks for their welcomed guests—the room practically looked like a royal suite, a room for a king if you may, it is—of course—a mansion, out of many in Xavier's infrastructural propriety due to his influence.

"Master?" Lucius.

"I'm almost ready, Lucius."

It is true, that Xavier Maximus is indeed handsome—despite his vile, cruel and immature nature—his striking black hair matches his fair skin and makes his golden eyes stand out, he's made an effort to make himself cleanly shaven for this party. His entire outfit—from his rich aristocrat coat, the dress shirt, breeches, and boots—is black, however, his neck tie was distinctive in its color—red. His ensemble consisted of the Templar colors, a gesture that expresses his allegiance to the Order as its acting superior.

"Tell me, Lucius, would Master Germain be proud of me?"

"I am very certain that would be if he were here, Master."

"Who knew, Lucius, that a boy like me—left by my adulterous mother and got beaten by my father countless times, every night I grew calloused to his drunken punches, he'd beat me because I did not sharpen the blades for the customers in his workshop and he would get all the complaints, then at night he would drink a whole ale jug and blame all the complains on me, helpless and weak was I until I have gathered enough strength to run away and do odd jobs from strangers, from a meat vendor to a smith," he glances at himself in the mirror, adjusting his collar and tucking in his necktie, "Until I found the man who had the generosity to give me a new life. I owed my life to him and I vowed to myself that I would avenge him, find the man who stole his life…"

For a moment, Xavier choked—not because he was on the verge of tears, rather slowly ignited by vengeance as he hears what he's saying, recalling his life debt to his master and the tragedy of his early life before becoming a Knights Templar. His lips trembled as he remembers the face of his angered, drunken father who beat him up in several ways than one.

This man, who is so consumed and wrapped by violence and anger, was once a beaten and helpless boy without anybody in the world to help him, not one soul to even call his friend.

"And the girl?"

"The girl… Celestine…" he mumbles, the sound of her name coming from his own mouth sounded and felt euphoric, addictive than any other narcotic, "Her parents, were Templar enemies, they needed to be terminated and I was given the chance to prove myself worthy to Master Germain."

"For some reason, Master Xavier, you spared her. Why is that?"

"Isn't it obvious? I want her for myself. A woman is so easy to bend to the whim of her man, but she is an exception. Her resilience impresses me and I wanted to see how much of my methods does it need to make her bend for me."

Lucius understood this quite well, over and over he's understood Xavier's unquenchable desire to have Celestine for himself—a woman who cannot be his, a woman who makes his advances futile, a woman who makes him constantly search for her despite the women he has brought to his bed—yet Xavier does not know this, he overlooks this, his greed makes him ignore the malicious virtue. Although it was new for him to see his master gradually go mental just by the sound of Celestine's name.

"How is the party out there?" Xavier.

"Quaint, if I may say so myself."

"Anything I need to know? The guards? The patrol?"

"Stationed."

"Good. I'll be ready in a few minutes."

"Of course, milord, the musicians are making the background lighter for the guests."

"That should keep them busy."

"Oh and Lord Xavier,"

"Hmn?"

"I have never told you this before, so forgive me," Lucius, ever so stoic, steps forward to Maximus and does not make the slightest change of expression when his master's face tensed a little somehow expecting a heavy fault in his servant, "Master Germain would like you to wear this."

From Lucius's waistcoat pocket, he fished for a white cloth with four folded triangles overlapping each other, he unfolds the flaps and reveals a pendant of the Templar cross—it was no ordinary pendant, it was the pendant that signifies one's rank as superior—not only was it shiny and new, it boasts the wearer's authority, influence, and charisma.

Maximus picks it up from Lucius's hands, the cross pendant dangling right in front of him as the chain encircles his fingers. The chain was warm to the touch of skin and the silver lining of the cross gleamed in the candlelight.

"Go on, Master, wear it.  _Monsieur_  Germain told me to keep it and give it to you on an occasion I see fit for you to wear it."

For once, Maximus was not enraged, rather enthralled to wear the pendant. Instead of wearing it, he attaches it to his waistcoat's button so that it hangs on his vest, he proudly stood before his reflection in the mirror and his eyes were fixated on the Templar's emblem adorned on him. He handsomely smirks, proud of himself, and turns to Lucius to bow to him in gratitude and thanks.

"T-Thank you…"

"You are most welcome, Master, I will see you outside. The cotillion will start on your command." As soon as Lucius opens the door, he stops in his steps and looks back at Xavier, "Oh and… Happy birthday, Xavier." He makes a slight smirk, his lids drop and makes a bow.

He wears his black-and-silver mask and leaves the room, with Xavier left alone standing in the mirror, he fixes himself one last time and picks up his mask—he had quite the classic taste: his half-mask was an opera type with gold laces bordering the edges, painted white with a black intersecting stripe parting the white in three and with swirls of gold paint making it elegant and intricate. He puts it on and leaves the room.

Before he could start the cotillion, he helps himself with a goblet of wine and promptly steps up to the stage—cue the musicians stopping the song in a fade-in effect to acknowledge his presence to the crowd. The cease of the music called everyone's attention, even the three disguised Assassins who were enjoying some drinks then got curious about the masked host standing before them.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you for coming to a special night for me—tonight is another year for me to celebrate life and future successes. But it is not only me who must celebrate life and success, it must be celebrated by every one of us," he raises his goblet, "In tribute to my late mentor and father figure—the man behind all this, if it wasn't for him we would not be enjoying this night—my friends, we toast in his honor."

Everyone with raised their glasses high—except for the three who were suspicious so they raised theirs in a medium height—and drank the toast.

"There's something off about him." Celestine.

"I sense it too." Octavien.

"Best be cautious." Arno.

As they sipped their wine, Xavier finished his drink and beams out a smile—an  _actual_ smile.

"And now, let the cotillion begin! Musicians, on my mark."

He goes the down the stage, stands on the open unoccupied portion of the floor and begins searching for a lucky lady to be his partner. He steps forward and takes the hand of a young black-haired girl dressed in a dark green gown with a matching golden half-mask. She was easily swayed by Xavier's charm, he is quite handsome for a man of twenty-nine years so it's out of the question why she accepted his offer to dance with her.

When everyone else is getting their partner, Arno steps in front of Celestine and does the gentlemanly gesture of asking her to dance with him; amused and charmed, she accepts his invitation meanwhile Octavien has already gone and looked for a lady to dance with.

They step into the dance floor, with the nobles and aristocrats, Celestine places her free hand on Arno's shoulder as he takes her other hand, and he secures the small of her waist with his arm; they danced and followed with the rhythm of the violinist and cello player's strikes of their respective chords.

Step by step, Celestine glides gracefully as she's held in Arno's arms, he twirls her and catches her; they were enjoying it, tender smiles were exchanged and small talk happened under their noses.

"You're so light on your feet, darling," Arno comments as he gently twirls his muse.

"Aren't I always?" Celestine chuckles.

One step in the cotillion was a synchronized scattered amongst the other dancers to which they'll end up with a different partner, much to Celestine's surprise the host of the ball stands right in front of her—oblivious that it's Xavier Maximus. To her, the mask felt like it was obscuring his entire face—despite being only a half-mask—a stranger with an unreadable expression, a straight mouth, and almost void-like eyes; it somehow made her chest feel heavy, a feeling which somehow made her uneasy and she felt like her partner was the one dancing and moving  _her._

"It's my birthday, you know." He starts.

"My best regards for you,  _monsieur_." She replies politely.

He feels the slight trembling of her hand on his palm, " _Vous semblez tendue_ ,  _mademoiselle_ , relax and let's enjoy the night."

"I'm quite fine,  _monsieur._ "

"Oh, are you now?" he chuckles charismatically, the smirk that won a handful of ladies' hearts. "Well, you can always hold on to me when your knees are weak."

Celestine unconsciously stares at her unknown partner's face, carefully examines the structure of his mouth, his nose bridge and the lining of the eyes through the shadowy obstructions of his mask. He gently spins her but still held onto her hand, as she leans backward his arm was already prepared to catch her—the way he lifted her back up seemed suggestive yet graceful and elegant, he pulls her up way to close that they are a nose tip away from each other. Xavier fixed a warm gaze on her—and then it hit him, for a moment he knew that this woman he is dancing with is Celestine—his eyes trailed down on her lips, internally lusting over the taste of that mouth and then returned to her eyes as they go back to dancing.

* * *

**Xavier's POV**

For some reason, I've known from the moment that our hands touched it was Celestine. Seeing her in a dress and not in an Assassin's coat made me look at her in a whole new different light. Even when she is concealed underneath a mask, I can already tell it's her—the eyes, the hair and even her lips—the whole image of her face, the curvatures and contours of her body, it's all in my mind. But tonight, she looks docile, not deadly yet she's still so beautiful when calm; the grace she carries with her as she glides on the floor, her alluring scent seems to be flying with each swing and twirl.

Maybe just for once, let me hold her like this.

Just for once, let me talk to her like this.

Let me keep her close to me—in my arms.

_Let me keep her._

I am the Grandmaster now, I can do whatever I want now.

I'm not that boy anymore, I'm a man stronger than who I used to be.

But yet…

I cannot keep her…

I cannot call her mine.

I don't care if she's an Assassin and I'm a Templar. Whatever the circumstance, Fate is cruel to me, Fate is greedy to me and Fate never exalted me—because I cannot have her no matter how much I want her. She will never belong to me even if I pull the strings.

At least, as a gift to myself, I can enjoy this one night with her before we start trying to kill each other before we see each other as enemies again.

I carefully spun her around, securing the tips of her fingers as she twirls gracefully, her back thumps onto my chest, her bare neck just below my chin and the softness of her cheek rubs on my jaw—the smoothness of her skin aroused me so, resisting felt so bleak when temptation felt welcoming; her hand was still holding onto mine, I felt my breath escaping my mouth and blowing on her neck, I managed a kiss on the back of her hand and my lips were just a nudge away from her earlobe when I slid back to position, I took a chance at it and the end of my lips met her ear.

"I'll save you the last dance, milady," I whisper to her as we go for another spin following a series of sidesteps.

At the strum of the musician's cello, I pull her closer to me, securing the small of her waist with my arm and kept her close and continued the two-step, the strums of the violinists at their chords reach their peak… and I reach mine.

The gap between us closed. Sealed.

_Truly, I must be weak to temptation. No matter how strong I think I am._

_Her lips… tender and sweet, it felt like pressing my mouth against a single rose petal._

_The taste… addictive and arousing._

_This kiss… is poison._

_My action is forbidden…_

_And laughable._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRENCH:
> 
> Vous semblez tendue – You seem tense


	44. The Allure of Lust, Greed, and Fury

**Xavier's POV**

I greedily lock my lips on hers.

Selfishly, in my mind, I claim her.

My hands gently secure her cheeks, savoring one more moment, and I was so sure that I felt her lips kiss me back—a responsive reflex I may assume.

In this temporary fantasy in which I brought her in with me, where everything has ceased their motion—everything and everyone else but me and her.

One last time, I want to look at her gentle gaze, her eyes that could mesmerize and hypnotize all men alike. Her mouth that is delightfully poisonous as it is sweet. Her smile is as deceptive as it is enchanting. Her words are music, her laugh is harmony and her whispers are soft melodies. She has the likeness of a goddess, the grace of a queen and the loveliness of a bride.

In another life, she would have been mine.

'Tis the reason I spared her, but alas, she is devoured by hatred and revenge. How could she love a monster?

"Celestine…" I caress her chin, "You have all the privilege in the world to kill me as you please."

* * *

**Celestine's POV**

The feeling that he's giving me…

I don't like it.

I feel frozen…

Paralyzed.

The warmth of his breath blowing on my neck gives me goosebumps.

The way his hands hold me and how he pulls me close to him… it doesn't feel right.

Before his stunt of kissing me, his voice—even though it's gentle-sounding—I cannot shake the fact that I can recognize the voice.

Upon figuring out that it's apparently Xavier, I wait for the right timing—even attacks like these have their peak like the end of a song. But before I could even execute my plan for attack, unexpectedly and unwantedly his lips met mine and I was completely frozen; my heart felt heavy, I really don't know how to react or when that's when I realized that this is an act of his greed, then I heard his words…

"You have all the privilege in the world to kill me as you please."

_How thoughtful of him to give me his consent._

I quickly engaged my blade hidden under my sleeve and not a moment sooner I thrust it into his torso—though unsure whether I hit a vital organ or not—and quickly withdrew for a smoke bomb to follow.

"NOW!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, as my voice echoed a cloud concealed me amidst the sudden slur that I have caused in the middle of the cotillion.

Right after my smoke bomb, two more followed and I wanted to make sure if the smoke is spewing out the windows—at least the ones that are ajar—the screams of confusion and fright were everywhere, Xavier didn't call for guards, the smoke and screaming were enough to alert the guards and then I heard the collision of swords around me. I looked for Felix because he had my sword until I realized I am looking for a needle in a haystack.

"Felix! Felix, my sword!"

"Celestine!" I saw him wave my sword, the tip peeking out of the fog and I told him to throw it; I put my trust in him and with sheer fortune, I caught it and I joined in the fun. I'm thankful that this dress doesn't give me enough difficult to swing my sword.

In this cloud of smoke, it's impractical to look for Arno or Octavien, so I decided to fight off some guards just so we can have the numbers less until I heard more and more Assassins coming in—I even met them whilst the cloud is thick.

* * *

Grandeur turned into chaos.

The splendor transformed into terror.

The celebration of wine and women has turned into a bloodbath.

Lucius was the first one to sense the incoming attack even with its subtle execution. This young chaperone is just as skilled in combat and strategy as anyone from a soldier even to the level of an Assassin. He knew that the Assassins were here, there was barely a time that the Assassins did not show up in wherever they were; he knew that they were here when in the duration of the Cotillion (he did not dance, he watched over by the stage), the woman with quite a unique gown was someone untrustworthy and he considered her quite sketchy despite the beauty concealing her true intention.

 _Surely he knows…_  Lucius thought to himself as soon as Celestine landed in Xavier's arms.

"Blinded by love, though he denies that emotion—let alone, the word itself—yet he calls it desire—it's not like those two words are defined differently." He mumbles under his breath.

As he watches his master dance with the woman he obsesses over, Lucius keeps a close eye on Celestine; he anticipates her next move, though he does not know when exactly she will strike. Even her smiles, the way her eyes move and what they express, her very body language, are just as deceptive as her tricks she has up her sleeve.

 _I am waiting for a snake to strike me in the face!_  He thinks to himself as his eyes follow every spin, every graceful twirl and every step of the dance.

Apparently, he wasn't ready when the snake had been kissed by her victim and struck him afterward.

When the Assassins saw the first sign of smoke from the outside, they reacted quickly and busted in the very ballroom of the mansion, doubling the havoc occurring inside; the guards have arrived in the ballroom to assess the commotion only to be killed by Assassins coming from behind them. Then swords have collided with one another, the piercing sound of their screams—regardless of which party—rung and the civilians have run away from the site of the skirmish. Alas, the word "skirmish" does not fit the scenario at all.

Celestine may not know it—neither Xavier—but Arno saw everything yet he didn't let his feelings get the best of him, he witnessed everything—from the moment Xavier got his hands on Celestine, he watched them carefully, admits to himself that he is internally feeling jealousy, he anticipates for Celestine to make her move until the kiss happened in the blink of an eye; he felt his rage burning up, he felt his cheeks flush color and he attempted to control himself, trusting Celestine that she will never betray him and thus, she proved her faith to Arno right in front of him.

The Assassins, of all generations, were trained to follow one of the philosophies taught by their mentors. That particular philosophy involves one's emotions and the main objective—Assassins must never let their emotions compromise their mission. That is what Arno specifically followed and complying with it was the right thing—he just needed a little faith on his Celestine.

"NOW!"

As soon as Celestine raised her arm with a smoke bomb in hand and calls the signal, quickly Arno fished for a smoke in the pouch hanging on his belt and followed, as soon as three smoke bombs exploded and hissed the glass of the windows shattered as the Assassins who have patiently and anxiously waited for the signal broke into the mansion.

The civilians have vacated the ballroom at their will, leaving the place for the Assassins, the guards and the Grandmaster and his chaperone.

Celestine and Arno were in separate areas of the ballroom, minding their own business of diminishing the numbers of the guards as best as they can while the smoke is thick and as soon as partial of the plan has been executed the smoke has dispersed there were eight more guards left alive and they have Celestine in the middle of their circle—like a pack of wolves cornering the prey—but the Assassins always have each other's backs. Eight guards were shot consecutively by Phantom Blades and bullets into their skulls.

When the smoke has completely vanished, all that's left standing in the middle of the floor is Xavier—clutching his stab wound with his left hand, it seems that Celestine's blade missed something vital, his footwork is flimsy as he bleeds out and he draws his sword while pressing onto his wound, he points the sword at Celestine.

"Shall we have the last dance, my dear?" even while bleeding out, he manages to remark like that.

She points her sword back at him, "Why not?"

"This fight is ours…  _and ours alone!_ " Xavier roared, addressing to everyone around the room—even Arno.

Xavier—despite his current state—his footwork while fighting Celestine is less flimsy but he cannot avoid staggering as he pressures himself while bleeding. She was forced to go easy on him just to make things fair but is indirectly or subtly an insult towards him. You can hear the other Assassins secretly snickering amongst themselves as they watch him trip and lose stance. But this insult just triggered Xavier to completely ignore his injury and fully attack Celestine without having to hold onto his flesh wound.

"Lucius!" Xavier screamed for aid and got no immediate response so he calls again, "Lucius!"

He was in for a surprise because Siegfried has taken down Lucius with a hideous gash that opened his neck, lying by his feet right before him is the blue, lifeless corpse of his chaperone— _his only friend in the world._

_Another trigger._

Now Xavier is infuriated, causing him to recklessly swing his sword, almost as if he's not targeting Celestine anymore, but everyone around him. All the guards knew—if he were alive, Lucius would know it first—that it's never the best idea to infuriate the young Grandmaster. While some would think it's childish and pointless, strangely enough, it is what makes him strong despite his faulty tactics.

When the Assassins, out of reflex, reacted to Xavier's fit the guards followed their instincts as well but their master scornfully shouted at them, "Kill them! Kill them all but leave the girl to me!"

Screams and blood splattered filled the place but Celestine kept her eyes on Xavier—she dared to not even take a glance of Arno or her brothers just to see if they were doing fine but no, she doesn't have the luxury of time, she can't even risk it. Even she knows that Maximus is dangerous and violent when enraged.

_Even without looking or glancing, I can tell that they are doing all right, I don't hear them screaming in pain… then that means all is well. I can only hope so it lasts that way until I kill off Maximus._

_Well, he did say I have all the privilege in the world to kill him as I please._

_I have a lot of ways to kill a Templar Grandmaster and I'm about to use it all on him!_

With Xavier becoming reckless and relentless at the same time, Celestine mentally plans out her next move on him; now that she has all her artillery in her reach, she didn't become thrifty with her weapons at all, she used it on him with every chance she got.

A Phantom Blade to the knee.

When she got enough distance away from Xavier, she snatches a pistol from a dead guard and quickly made sure of the bullets it had left, she quickly turns around and automatically aims at Xavier only to be evaded by him and be a stray bullet but she does not stop—she made the shots count, her gunpoint followed the direction where Xavier was going and stopped him when she shot him in the calf. He stumbled on the floor and she caught up to him with full speed and focus, with a sword in hand all she needed to do is to strike but the Templar Grandmaster had deflected it with his remaining strength.

"Oh, but we're not done yet, love!" he growls, props himself up on his elbow to give him enough height to stab Celestine by the side and kicks her back away.

"Celestine!" Arno cried when he heard her groan due to the kick.

Her sword and the pistol that she took clattered away from her as she lies down there.

The skirmish is still continuing but all the tension is between Celestine and Xavier—all will stop if one falls and the other stands as the victor.

She struggles to stand up, the pain of the wound stinging below her ribs, struggling to crawl towards the nearest weapon within her arm's reach—the pistol. As soon as she has hold of it, she immediately charged it—unable to afford to the luxury of a few seconds to check the magazine—and without hesitation pulled the trigger, continuously shooting at Xavier as he limps in his evasion.

"Your chaperone isn't here to save you anymore, Xavier!  _Venez combattre! Il est ce que vous vouliez, non?_ "

"You're right, my dear!  _Notre danse est pas encore terminée!_ "

As they got a cleared area, the sword-and-gun fight resumed, despite Celestine being kicked back away to the floor and having less than a few seconds to retrieve the nearest weapon she can snatch on the floor and use it against her enemy while Xavier, still attempting to keep his composure even when he's bleeding out in the middle of a duel, raises his sword at her, taunting her to keep fighting despite the fatal injuries they have both attained from each other. Ironic.

Arno wanted to help, yet he knew he must not intervene. By the looks of the duel, the tension is so great that even the slightest intervention from anybody else in the room waging war against each other it would break either of their momenta and lose. But no, Arno is a smart young man, he knows when to strike; it is true that he had been a reckless boy a few years ago, but he's learned from his mistakes and Celestine—meeting her from the very first time and coming to love her deeply all this time—was enough motivation for him to fight alongside her.

It is amazing to think that he and Celestine—by the other Assassins' perspectives—seem to have harmonized so well with each other that even the slightest movement or gesture signifies as a signal indicated to the other; not even two Assassins can synchronize that well with each other in the same way no matter how rigorous and repetitive the training scheme would be. It was all a matter of something else—dare they say it, it was love.

* * *

**Celestine's POV**

_I'm hurting so much…_

_Not because of my injuries…_

_It's because of something else._

_My body is telling me to stop. Drastically telling me to stop fighting._

_I can't. I can't stop. Not right now. Not when I'm so close._

With just the gun with the remaining shots it has in its magazine, I made sure that each shot count—careful not to miss—despite my wound, I could still move at the very least; I could only assume that my shot to Xavier's calf was enough to cripple him to make him flimsier, although he kind of made it fair when he stabbed me to the side.

_Guess you didn't push the blade that deep enough to stab a rib._

I wanted to end this without being so dramatic.

While pressing onto my wound below my left rib, with all my strength and with every heave of my breath, I approach him and I made sure that I won't be able to run into his blade again so it's best to keep my distance.

I feel myself slowly declining and with every step.  _Please, no. Please, not yet._

_We are so close to winning._

As I got close to him, I shoot his other calf for good measure and as I watch him stumble to the floor, I was deprived of a single moment…

I fell to my knees and I was in level with Xavier—he and I both see eye-to-eye, it was a mockery of me, I shouldn't stumble this low with him.

"Heh," he manages to chuckle to insult me, "I see that you are in the dust with me, my dear?"

"I'm not like you." I groaned. "I haven't killed you yet."

He laughs menacingly. "Go on. Kill me, and may this everlasting loop of Templars against Assassins reach your children and your grandchildren!"

As I was about to point the gun at him and pull the trigger… I was deprived of one fateful thing.

_The magazine is now empty._

Please tell me that this is not happening right now. I repeatedly squeeze the trigger and prompted to check the magazine of the pistol to see if it was a jam or really an empty clip.

"It seems that your gun isn't in favor with you tonight, eh?" Xavier mocks me some more.

The blood on the wound felt like it was curdling as I was boiling hot with fury while he insults me, a dying man with one slump to the grave cannot get the best of me! While clutching his wound and his sword arm still functional, if he could just move forward he will be able to stab me with his sword.

"I got to hand it to you, you have quite a grip—considering the fact that you are a dying man."

Arno comes to my left side, still supporting me as I go limp while hearing Xavier's dying words in this conversation.

"Quite a grip, you say?" he gasps, "My dear Celestine if only with this grip I would have held you for longer! I would have brought you with me to heaven… to hell… to purgatory! You would have been mine and mine alone!"

In the blink of an eye, I snatched Arno's sword—lucky that he holds it in his right hand—with my left hand and had the bastard Grandmaster at the tip of this golden sword.

"Go ahead! Kill me! I gave you the privilege, didn't I? After that poison kiss… a kiss that no whore can ever surpass!"

_Did he just compared me to a whore…?_

"I am sure…" he coughs up, obviously losing blood that his skin is paling, "That you can prove as an Assassin, as an incoming Master as you kill me, you are not as weak as your fath—"

Before he could even complete the word and finalize his last statement, I plunged the Sword of Eden into his windpipe and just when that wasn't enough for me I pulled out the sword again, heard him groan with whatever's left of him and with every stab, blood painted my torn and dirtied dress.

_For my father!_

_For my mother!_

_For all of my Brothers that you have killed!_

_For all of the Assassins!_

_For me!_

The final plunge of the blade into his heart for me and everything was awfully silent, from behind me the sounds of our gasps of breath, worn and exhausted from all the battling, the blood that has dried and browned on our clothes—all of this signified that it's all over as we speak. We are all tired and we deserve a rest.

I gave back Arno the Sword of Eden, he grabs my wrist so as to support me and make a crutch of himself but I refuse as I let my hand slip away from his grip, attempting to walk even in this state but then…

"Celestine! Celestine…"

_What's happening?_

From what I could comprehend in all my ability, everyone is panicking, I felt my head and back hit the floor and their voices are all but a slur of sounds. It's making me dizzy. Everything is making me dizzy.

_I haven't lost that much, have I?_

I heard Arno's voice calling my name but it was gradually turning into a hollow echo. I felt his arms cradling me, shaking me and telling me to hold on.

_Am I dying?_

"Celestine! Celestine, come on, fight it!" Arno cries so desperately, it's so apparent.

Everything in my sight gradually shifts into blurry images to a clear blackout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRENCH:
> 
> Venez combattre! – Come and fight!
> 
> Il est ce que vous vouliez, non? – It is what you wanted, isn't it?
> 
> Notre danse est pas encore terminée! – Our dance isn't over yet!


	45. The End of a Life to Begin Another

Celestine makes her final vengeful strike of the sword into the mutilated throat of the young Grandmaster. The pendant inherited by the Grandmaster before him is now swimming in a pool of Xavier's blood. He draws out a final wisp of breath.

 _"Requiescat… in pace."_  Whispered Celestine ever so faintly that it seemed that it was only shared between her and her deceased nemesis; internally rejoicing, triumphant and proud, she works up a smirk in her mouth and turns to the people behind her: her Brothers.

Exhausted and weary like her Brothers, she turns away from the corpse and joins her companions, slowly limping instead of walking, her strength declining and yet the Assassins come out victorious.

But as soon as Celestine collapsed, everyone in a newfound energy panicked and tried to do anything to wake her up.

Arno caught her in his arms before she could actually hit her body on the floor. He shakes her gently, desperately trying to get an answer from her. Most of them assumed it was exhaustion, some do not know the most believable answer to her collapse.

"Extremists! The extremists are coming!" one Assassin shouted as he was on the lookout of the corridor.

"We need a quick escape!" Arno cries out as he picks up the slightly unconscious Celestine in his arms.

"The windows would not work, Arno, not with you carrying Celestine." Siegfried.

"We'll clear the way for you!" Octavien.

"We meet in the courtyard! Make sure the carriage is still there!" Arno, "The others get to the rooftops!"

When the other Assassins have heard this from Arno, one of them said, "We'll clear the courtyard for you!"

The remaining extremist guards who were stationed in different areas of the mansion reported to the ballroom charge to find the Assassins—the remainder of them—still alive and kicking, they tried to fight them off with their remaining strength and stamina. Some resorted to using smoke bombs instantaneously so that they can vanish in the extremists' collective sight and that was the easiest way out—considering that with Celestine's condition right now. They both know that if they shout, scream in the middle of their escape it would be pointless so out of their own instinct, each of them went to all the means of escape that they found.

Arno carefully went down the stairs behind Octavien and Felix, in his arms Celestine tries to stay alive with the remaining ounces of her strength to breath and within herself try not to completely black out.

"Stay with me, Celestine!" Arno tells her.

"There are too many of them, Octavien!" Felix.

"Everybody hold their breaths!" Octavien roared—it might be the first time that he got so worked up in fighting—trusting that everyone heard him, he popped a smoke bomb and the Assassins slipped through the gaps, ducking under the extremists' flailing arms hopelessly swatting out the cloud in front of their faces as they cough, and found their way out of the fog.

As soon as they got down the huge flight of stairs and after going left and right through corridors, they found the main entrance, when they thought it was going to be an easy escape there were three more extremists waiting by the mouth of the doorway. Not wasting any more time, Siegfried gunned them down and Octavien lunged at them with his partisan, thus giving Arno and Celestine access.

It was quite tedious for all the Assassins, the extremists seem to find ease without a master barking at them yet it was already spontaneous for them to attack rebels—or in this case, Assassins. They were already in the yard where they first arrived by carriage and now it is riddled with bodies, weapons, blood, and dueling. Some of the Assassins were already injured and their exhaustion has doubled because of this wave of extremists coming at them.

This is a war. Not even Napoleon could even command a war this bold. Let alone start one like this.

"Bring on the smoke! We're going home, boys!" Siegfried—while in command of the assault in the yard—roared, with a smoke bomb in his raised hand he aggressively dropped it to the ground, making sure that the exterior shell cracked to release the mist and was followed by his team.

With the smoke already out of their shells, they scaled the nearest wall next to them and made it to the rooftops. Instantaneously, the Assassins above headed straight for the direction to the café while watching over the ones on the ground; however, for Felix, Octavien, Arno, and Celestine they had to be nimble for the smoke had limited time to stay thick before it disperses into thin air and become vulnerable to a horde of Reds.

"Quickly, quickly!" Octavien, "Felix, man the reins, they killed the coach!"

"Hey, where are you sitting?!" Felix.

"At the back! Arno, come on, get in!" Octavien gestures Arno to get into the carriage, "Gently now."

Arno carefully places Celestine on the other seat in a lie-down position and hops in sitting on the opposite side, as soon as the door closes Octavien has already held onto the back of the carriage and Felix snapped the reins before the cloud has fully dispersed and the extremists have recovered from their inhalation.

"Poison! Use the poison bombs on them!" Felix screamed before the carriage could even get farther from the mansion and only a few have heard it—Siegfried and Adrien included, so they passed the message and the courtyard was blanketed with a green toxic pall, leaving the victims faltering and panicking as they see blood spurting out of their noses and mouth while desperately coughing out and getting clean air to breathe in but the gaseous toxin has already entered their bloodstreams and they declined.

The horse's hooves stamped the concrete, the citizens forced to give way to the charging carriage whilst Felix continuously snaps the reins whenever he feels that the horse wasn't fast enough though of course, he knew well that he shouldn't tire out the steed if they haven't covered at least half the distance of the entire way back to home.

"You can slow down now, Felix! We lost them." Says Octavien gunning down the last out of four of the surviving extremists out of the poison gas cloud.

"How's everything back there, Octavien?" Felix.

"You can slow down now, Brother. They're all gone." He sighs in relief, blowing off the steam puffing out of the barrel of his pistol.

"I can't slow down!"

"For God's sake, Felix, slow down! You're going to plow the entire road!"

"Celestine doesn't have time!"

"Hurry, Felix, hurry!" Arno demanded, loudly knocking on the wall of the carriage in the middle of the argument between Octavien and Felix.

"What's happening in there?!" Octavien.

"She's almost losing consciousness!"

"Hyaa!" Felix shouted, once again snapping the reins, the horse neighed loudly in response and in obeisance to its driver its hooves stamps ferociously on the cobblestone.

"Whoa!" Octavien exclaims as the carriage shook when the horse started to go fast, he holds on tight on the bars of the carriage as they speed back to Ile de la Cité.

There were Assassins who were on foot got ahead of them, these men have already called for help from the maids and Mme. Gouze herself about the incoming carriage with Felix, Octavien, Arno and Celestine; the maids and the elder maid, Helena, who once tended to Celestine's gash on her back prepared all their materials to treat whatever wound and some have already started on the wounded men who came into the mansion first, there was a commotion as the maids come in and out of the storage room fetching all the materials they need whenever they start to run out of gauze, bandages, and medicine. Some maids were babbling orders such as fetching clean water for drinking and for treating the wounds (separately, of course) but most of them heeded to the elder maid's orders—and she wasn't the only one who happens to be the elderly maid, there were others like her but with her expertise everybody seems to have relied on her heavily.

From the distance, the ailing Assassins who were being treated in the bar area itself heard the squeals of startled citizens, the screeching of the wheels against the concrete, the whinnying of the steed and the wild shouts of the driver.

"Who is it?" asked one of them while a maid cleans off the curdled blood on his cut.

"It's them!" replied one of the maids who walked to the doorway to check.

Felix had pulled up and made a sharp turn to his right, directed to the west yard of the mansion, the horse stood on its hind legs and flailed its front; he calmed it down while Octavien jumped off his perch and opened the carriage door, Arno already had Celestine in his arms and they ran to the entrance of the mansion. Celestine became their utmost priority. The sight of her paling and almost losing consciousness caused an alarming shock towards the maids, the butlers, Mme. Gouze and the Assassins.

"Bring her upstairs, in her room." Helena urgently but calmly demands, " _Vous trois, venez avec moi_." She gestures at the three maids, they each fetch a basin, a pack of bandages and two bottles of medicine as she goes on ahead, trusting that Arno follows her.

"Please, please save her!" Arno.

"Lay her there." Helena points to her bed as she drags away the flat stool of Celestine's dresser, prompting the maids to set down the materials there as she kneels down beside Celestine.

Helena takes off everything that possibly constricts Celestine—she asks Arno to take off her gauntlets, her belt, and pouch, the straps around her thighs that holstered her Phantom Blades, everything, he even took off her greaves and boots. She reaches for her wrists, searches for a pulse and found three beats within her count of three minutes.

"She's still alive. She has a pulse."

That was enough relief for Arno to breathe well in the suspense of reviving Celestine but it has only begun.

Then Lady Helena soaked a clean rag into the basin of water, abruptly squeezed out the water dripping and dabbed it on Celestine's forehead, wiping away all the sweat and dirt trickling on her; she soaks it again, squeezes out the excess water and quickly folded it into a rectangular shape to place it on Celestine's forehead.

Next part of the procedure was to check Celestine's wound, Lady Helena ripped off the portion of the dress that already had the tear from Xavier's blade; now with the wound exposed she cleans it with another clean rag soaked from the water until it was free of the dried blood around the rim of the flesh wound.

"How is she?" Arno.

"Be grateful that she hasn't lost that much blood and she still has a pulse, it seems that the blood underneath the wound has clotted and blocked the opening to prevent it from oozing."

"Lady Helena, are we going to…" one of the maids nervously says but she can't finish her sentence.

"Yes, she needs sutures. This is a flesh wound, relying on the body to independently heal it will not work. Either that or we burn her wound, nonetheless, both are painful." Lady Helena then remembers, "Do we still have the anesthetic in the storeroom?" she turns to the three maids expecting an answer from them.

"I'll fetch it."

"Quickly now."

The maid quickly went out of the bedroom to fetch the bottle of anesthetic, while waiting Lady Helena readies her materials needed for both sewing Celestine's wound and cauterizing it. When the maid finally got back to the bedroom, the content inside the bottle is still fairly adequate but Helena chose to put only a few drops into the rag and dabbed it once and only once under Celestine's nostrils and then went to rub it on the flesh wound to start sewing it because she had a feeling that the young Assassin's tolerance for pain in her condition is too risky so the traditional way was the only option.

Now, Lady Helena is something. Before ending up as one of the servants in the café, in her prime days she was a nurse—a remarkable one too—only a chosen few knew of her history, some say that she was once a medic in the camp of the National Guards and it was quite true, she was even transported to different medical buildings such as asylums and hospitals but since she was a nurse by profession she was brought to one of the earliest clinics in Paris and there she was a nurse and a midwife (occasionally). There is one thing remarkable about Lady Helena, despite her calm demeanor even in the direst of situations such as this, she has this one technique that she has learned over the years: she can tell whether a woman is pregnant or not just by looking closely and carefully at her jugular notch (the hollow part between the clavicle that forms a V) if it's throbbing or not, now this may both inaccurate and accurate at certain points but aside from checking the woman's lower abdomen, she can tell.

When Lady Helena noticed Celestine's jugular notch throbbing, she places her had on Celestine's abdomen and gently pressed it down to see if it was a bit harder than fleshy and she concludes her assumption that Celestine might be indeed pregnant.

"Lady Helena? What's going on? Is something wrong?" Arno.

"I'll explain later, for now, we need to stitch her up now."

The operation was intense, her delicate fingers holding the surgical needle piercing through a thin piece of Celestine's skin as the thread gets pulled and another stitch and another and another; the Assassin's sharp gasps of breath from the sensation of a needle and thread pulling through her skin make her heart beat faster, her body is now acting up, responding to the pain so that her nerves would cope with the pierce. She may not completely feel the pain but the sensation is still there, she is not completely numb from the anesthetic—only partially so that she won't scream and squirm too much during the suture operation.

"There she is, she's breathing quite fine now. Once this is done, she'll be all right in no time." Lady Helena assures everyone in the room—especially Arno—as she carefully makes the last two stitches before she closes it at the end.

The closing stitch is knotted and finally, the suture is done.

"Will she be all right, Lady Helena?" Arno.

Lady Helena stands up, gestures Arno to come outside with her to tell him what she has discovered. But before the both of them would exit the room, she ordered the maids to watch over Celestine—clean her, dress her in warmer and cleaner clothes and give her some rest.

"How long have you known?" Lady Helena asks Arno.

"What? I don't understand…" he stammers in reply.

"You don't know?"

Arno slowly shakes his head, his eyebrows pulled together.

"She's pregnant, Arno."

And from that Arno couldn't believe it. He literally had no idea of telling that Celestine was pregnant prior to the execution of the plan itself. He fell silent, in shock and confused; unsure what to feel upon discovering the truth and what to say to Celestine once she has regained consciousness.

"Well… How is she… and—" he chokes, "And the child?"

"Both are fine, her blood loss is not too dramatic to make it worse for them."

"Lady Helena, how long has she been pregnant?"

"I honestly can't tell, Arno, only Celestine can answer to that."

"I understand."

"But for now, let's give her some rest.  _All_  of you need rest."

An hour left before midnight comes, half of the Assassins are already treated and attended to by maids. Some of them retreated to the Brotherhood and decided to rest there, the underground started to look like a refugee camp by the sight of the number of wounded and bandaged men resting on the floor and on the stairs. Most of them have fallen asleep due to the exhaustion they got from all the fighting, stiff as boards and heavy snorers they were.

* * *

**Arno's POV**

_I couldn't believe it._

_I'm going to be a father._

_Why did she never told me?_

_She only jeopardized her health and the child growing inside her._

_How old is it?_

_Is it healthy? Is it affected by all the vigorous movement back at the mansion in Tuileries?_

I think to myself as I take hold of the railings of the second floor just by the stairs, suddenly I lost my footing and my entire composure even while Lady Helena was talking to me earlier. My mind felt haywire and I couldn't understand and could understand at the same time. My heart felt heavy but not in a bad way, just in a confusing way.

I need to approach Celestine calmly once she wakes up, or else I'll upset her if she takes it the wrong way due to my failure to deliver my thoughts well.

I have never been so muddled in my entire life—especially in this situation, it's the most unexpected, really.

Then things start to flash right before my very eyes, they were very indistinct and random, and they appear all at once before my eyes; some of them I can make out of it, memories—mostly—of me and Celestine, the sound of her laugh and the sound of her voice in a mellow tone, the way she looks back at me.

I went downstairs, my three Brothers were at the foot of the stairwell, they are not in their usual selves—they are bandaged, purpled and wounded—the streaks of blood have been cleared from their skins, their dress coats were torn and there were wraps of bandages around their limbs.

"You look like you've been through worse than us, Arno." Siegfried comments, probably noticing the creases on my face but I still looked down on their boots avoiding their stares.

"How is she?" Felix.

My eyes trailed up so I could decently answer them and break the news to them—perhaps they didn't even notice, are men really oblivious and cannot tell whether a woman is pregnant before it becomes evidently large?

I look at them, I look at their eyes—the difference of the shapes, the colors of their irises, the default expressions when they're relaxed, the linings and circles under their eyes—I saw their distinguished features and my eyes wander to their bandages and wounds as I take a moment to try to say only the simplest of answers.

"Pregnant…" I mumble under my breath, in a volume that only I can hear and comprehend.

They lean forward, pull their eyebrows in and go "Eh?" altogether as they heard my unintelligible mumbling.

"She's pregnant with…  _my_  child."

Their eyes widened, their eyebrows relaxed, mouths gaped open, they exchanged looks with each other as if competing who has the better-surprised face among the three of them then their collective look turns back to me, silently concerned about my well-being and probably curious about my thoughts about this.

"Well, what… what are you going to do?" Felix.

I think he's asking about my next action for this, he's not asking what I'm going to do with the baby.

"It's my child, isn't it? I have to wait for Celestine to wake up and we'll discuss it further."

"So, she's already resting?" Siegfried.

"Yes," I add a nod, "Her body's exhausted and worn from what happened back in Tuileries."

"We made quite a mess back there." Octavien.

"A night to remember." Siegfried half-jokes, "I even heard your lame titles, Sir Grand Duke of Luxembourg."

"That wasn't the title I made! It was better than that!" Octavien suddenly became defensive."

"You knighted yourself with a half-baked dub that King Louis would!" Felix.

The three burst into a laugh and I remember that moment as well, so the laughter became contagious to me.

"Hey, Arno." The laughter faded in as Octavien calls my name and I face them, the three of them smiling at me, "She'll be alright. The child will be all right as well."

That warmed my heart actually. Did you honestly think nothing like that could warm my heart? Real men have soft spots, you know. I smiled at them in great gratitude and the four of us waited for the time to pass. Before we even knew it, dawn was beginning to break; the first few of the roosters in the street just outside the mansion were already crowing, some of the maids were dimming out of the gas lamps giving the house a soft candlelight glow in the halls—on some nights it looked a bit spooky almost like the catacombs but tonight is peaceful because it marks the day that we've finally eradicated the Templar Grandmaster (in quite a hell of a bloody mess) and it was the first dawn without the Templar rule, this day is also the most well-deserve day of rest for all of us Assassins, we may be wounded and bruised but we may just actually afford the luxury of resting and letting our injuries heal naturally without any sort of strain (because there are situations wherein we still have to move a lot while injured because it's minor and not as life-threatening, we're like soldiers in the camp).

When Lady Helena passed by again after tending some of the Assassins, I politely call her and stop her pace, " _Madame_  Helena,"

"Yes, Arno?"

"Am I allowed to enter Celestine's room? I promise I won't disturb her. I'll only look at her."

"Enter and leave the room quietly then. Her anesthetic wasn't that strong to induce her to a sleeping state but I can only assume she'll be awake in the morning or noon."

"All right,  _Madame._ "

_Perhaps I should wait until morning…_

_But I feel so antsy to see her. I want to see her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRENCH:
> 
> Vous trois, venez avec moi. – You three, come with me.


	46. Fruit of Thy Womb

**Arno's POV**

Not sooner or later, most of us didn't last awake that long no matter how much willing we were to wait for the sunrise—we already have reached the break of dawn—after that conversation earlier, we looked for a vacant place and I let my Brothers stay in my room; with the fireplace crackling warm, they would have a quiet sleep, although the problem is that my bed could only fit two people and perhaps the other would sleep on the couch, but I guess they wouldn't mind—with their bodies already overworked, as long as there's something somewhere to lie about, then it works.

I even saw most of the other Assassins were sleeping on the stage in the café, the chairs and tables were rearranged from their original layout into a makeshift clinic—in the middle of that was a space that could fit like four of the wounded.

We did not bring an army though, we did not bring the entire Parisian Brotherhood, we only brought the best but some were even willing to join and we have no say against that; yet we can already stop dwelling on that and just rest—that's apparently the only thing in our minds right now.

My room was filled with the snores of my Brothers, sound asleep like children, I couldn't sleep not because of their snores but I just can't seem to. I bring my armchair to the fireplace, prop my elbow on the armrest and stare at the hearth.

"Brother, aren't going to sleep yet?" Octavien asks in a whisper as he shifts his head to me while he tucks his hands under the back of his head—his usual position when lying down.

"No, I… I can't sleep, even if I try closing my eyes."

"Are you anxious?"

"Of what?"

"You know what I mean."

Of course I know what he means, so that did not require a reply. I deeply sigh as I shift back to my dead gaze at the hearth, my heart is still racing, my mind running with so many thoughts: I am indeed restless.

Hours ticked as the fire crackled, the house becomes more silent by the moment as even the maids retired to their quarters or went home (not everyone lived there anyway). Madame Gouze allowed the entire café to take the day-off.

"It's been a busy night. Everyone deserves rest. We'll celebrate the freedom of Paris in the morning." Gouze remarks even though she did not step inside my room but her voice was audible even though she tried to minimize her volume so as to not disturb the sleeping people in my bedroom.

She did not need a reply to that, but she acknowledged that I was awake but tired.

I resorted to sleep, finally.

* * *

It was morning, all of them are still asleep throughout the day, assuming that they'll wake up in the afternoon. The heavy chiming of the clock itself was not enough disturbance for majority of the Assassins to suddenly jump out of impulse from their greatly-desired rest.

The snoring in Arno's bedroom is still loud as a sty with three pigs in it—and those three pigs in personification are Octavien, Siegfried and Felix, Arno wasn't much of a snorer anyway.

Some of the maids who seem to have woken up ahead of the others in the house; one of them has bothered to douse the fire and slightly leave the two doors that lead to the outdoor garden and the balcony that overlooks Ile de la Cité, not only that she fixed the blanket on the two brothers occupying Arno's queen-sized bed, lifted up Octavien's leg that unconsciously fell from the sofa and readjusted Arno's blanket.

Another early-bird maid carefully enters Celestine's room, checking to see if she's awoken. The maid notices Celestine's steady breathing, her eyes trail down to the Assassin's lower abdomen—somehow hoping to see a small kick but only saw a slight upward curve—and then back up. She quietly walks up to her and gently takes off the rag on her forehead to cool her head overnight, she changes the water in the basin and dips the cloth; she squeezes off the excess water and carefully placed it on Celestine's forehead, as she was about to leave she heard an incoherent mutter from the she-Assassin.

" _Madamoiselle?_ "

It was unintelligible for her to understand, Celestine was groaning but not out of pain but for the need to speak. She took deep breaths that gradually turned into rapid ones, it looked like she was struggling to open her eyes and then she took sight of the maid.

"What's happened?"

"Milady, you were induced to sleep," the maid replies, "And don't worry, the baby is fine."

"The baby?" Celestine mutters to herself, the maid thought she was asking her so she nodded.

Celestine had nothing else to accept it, her assumption was false, she sighs and tells to herself, "So, it can't be helped."

"Milady?"

"Nothing."

"Should I tell Master Arno that you are already awake?"

"Arno," she mumbles again to herself but this time the maid didn't hear it, she takes a deep breath and nods, the maid leaves the room.

"Master Arno!" the servant goes wailing in the corridors and Arno sprung out of his bedroom, followed by him were his Brothers—with Siegfried and Felix in shambles after waking up.

"What are you going on about?"

"Lady Celestine is awake!"

With that, Arno brushed past the servant and then darted to Celestine's room but stopped right in front of the very latch, he was nervous so he took deep breaths and slowly reaches for the doorknob. He takes hold of it, turns it around and then takes the first step entering the bedroom.

He held the door ajar, peeked through the gap and looked for any sign of movement from Celestine—he found her blanketed legs and saw them nudge a bit—and then he opened the door further. As he's opening the door, he fixes his look on Celestine's bedside—more importantly, on Celestine herself—and what he saw was his soon-to-be-wife lying down on her bed, finally (yet hopefully) well-rested and slightly disheveled.

"Celestine?"

"Arno…"

The exchange finished quickly as Arno knelt down on her bedside, taking her hand and pressing it against his own cheek.

"How are you feeling?"

"Quite all right."

He wanted to ask her about the baby but he thought that she doesn't know it yet but Celestine saw it in his eyes, her hand caressed his cheek and gave him a comforting, affirming look.

"I'm all right, the baby is fine too."

Arno's eyes widened, his mouth parted and he exhaled in relief. He leans forward to kiss her lovingly on the forehead.

"I'm so sorry." He whispers.

"What for?"

"I wasn't aware, I should have proposed to you sooner, it would have been proper—"

She stops his stammering, putting her thumb gently on his lips, "It's all right, there is nothing you need to worry about."

Arno doesn't know what to say next, the docile look of his wife calmed him down and comforted himself with the softness of her palm on his cheek, her fingers were playing on his brown locks and her thumb ran across the under area of his eye.

"You know, you don't need to be rattled, Arno. Calm down," she chuckled.

Arno just kept sighing in relief, breathing after holding his breath while Celestine was unconscious—he was sure that Celestine would have made it, he was nervous for the child, surprisingly Arno never showed any sign that he was much of a family man to other people for he only kept it to himself. But only the people who know him best have seen that side of him, one who is devoted to his family, he may have acted juvenile when Francois de la Serre was still alive and took him in after Charles's death.

In the back of his head, he was starting to come up with the baby's name, then he was beginning to plan where they'd live once she's given birth. His options only ranged from living here in Paris or move to Versailles, yet he'd still have to consider Celestine's choice—he was even assuming that she'd want to live in the countryside which is actually no problem at all.

"Do you still want to rest,  _amore?_ "

"No, I'm fine. I think I've rested long enough." Celetine says and then she suddenly attempts to stand up but then her lower abdomen cramped as she bent her body.

Arno was quick to move, he supported her by making his arm into a prop for her to rest on, she takes deep breaths and then leans back slowly, finding the perfect leverage that won't make her body feel cramped.

"I think you should really need some more rest." Arno insists.

"Arno," she pauses, "Do they know?"

"You mean our Brothers?"

"Does the Council know of this?"

His face tensed, she's eager to anticipate for an answer as her grip on him tightens; he recalls that everyone knew except for the top brass, come to think of it—it was never forbidden for two Assassins to marry and bear children, unless it was kept as a secret for far too long. As his response, he shakes his head slowly yet she showed no sign of nervousness or worry.

"Should we tell them now?"

"Yes."


	47. The Assassins' Recovery

Celestine gently sits up, her feet find the carpet and her toes fiddle with the soft bristles of the fabric underneath the soles of her feet; Arno takes her by the hand as she stands up, she stretches to relieve the crick in her back and her neck. As an alternative to a robe, he dresses her with the Assassin's long coat, concealing her rosy pink corset—not wanting to let her undergarment be exposed he buckles the coat shut only to slightly reveal her stomach—then he helps her put on her boots without the greaves.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes,  _grazie_."

Arno takes the lead in getting out of the room with Celestine in his hand, they strode through the hall passing by a few of the maids attending in certain areas of the mansion. As they walk the corridor, Celestine did not allow herself to be perceived as weak or invalid by anyone in the mansion—be it the servants, the intendant, Madame Gouze, or the Assassins—some of the Assassins who were lodging in the mansion saw her; she noticed different expressions in their faces as she passed by them—some were bowing their heads as they acknowledge her presence, as for the others they were looking at her warily, giving out vague signals for Celestine to start having ideas running in her mind produced mostly by anxiety and paranoia—she wonders if they were relieved to see her finally awake or, in a way, afraid. They descend to the bottom of the stairs and turn right to the passage's doorway guarded by Octavien with a different corseque and another Assassin in beige robes.

At the sight of Celestine standing before them, the other Assassin flinched and straightened his back as if he were a royal guard.

"At ease, young man," she chuckles tenderly and then turns to Octavien who hasn't found his words yet, "It looks as though you've seen Lazarus rise from his grave—only this time, it's a woman."

"Figuratively so," Octavien jokingly blurts, "But I'm glad you're up and up now, Celestine."

"I wish to see the Council—and I'm sure they're  _dying_  to see me as well."

"Of course. They missed you, they were sitting on pins and needles while you were still locked in your room." Arno.

They all chuckled—except for the beige-robed Assassin who snuck a small laugh under his chin—Octavien relaxes his stance.

"I hope they are reasonable today, I think pardoning myself in a sense would not be a waste of my time to be supposedly resting." Celestine.

"I'm sure they'll make it worth your while." Octavien.

They pass through the manned barricade, quietly descending the stairs and stopping on the landing—for a moment, Celestine stops in her tracks and looks to her right, she sees the golden cage where the great Assassin Thomas de Carneillon's was once kept and now unlocked by Arno with the use of the keys and solving the riddles and puzzles. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, her lids shoot up and her vision is changed—she sees faint lines invisible to the naked eye, she sees the glowing glyph of Mercurius etched on the stone wall just right above the lectern.

"Celestine?" for a moment, Arno's voice sounded distant and hollow shortly followed by an echo, at the faint nudge of his elbow on her arm she snaps out of it and her vision returns to normal.

She inhales sharply as if she's been underwater for too long.

"Celestine, are you all right? Do you want to go back to the room?"

"No, I just… I just had tapped into something…"

"You mean… your  _sight_?"

"Yes."

"Are you still going to them?"

"Of course."

Arno opens the door for her, she goes in first and he follows, they are now in the tunnel that intersects with the narrow hall of the Brotherhood. She noticed that the candles are close to a full meltdown, close to being nothing but burnt wicks sitting on a hardened puddle of wax on rock, while the other candles seem to be still standing tall. Then she focuses her eyes on where she's going, she greets the merchant who stays—or practically even lives in the entry chambers of the Brotherhood—by the halls before setting foot on the grand foyer.

For some reason, Arno recalled what it looked like after the battle in Xavier's mansion party: some of the Assassins who once laid down there decided to stay and heal there instead of squeezing themselves in the café which was urgently closed for emergency reasons—which were the Assassins themselves. There were a very few Assassins lodging in the study hall upstairs, even just bystanders would choose to stay by the marble railings of the balcony overlooking the foyer and the very entrance corridor.

"Are they all still healing?"

"No, some decided to take the week off after what happened. Most of them have healed now. Their wounds weren't really that grave, just exhaustion and fatigue."

Deep inside Celestine, she felt like she was the cause of all those ailments that the Assassins had—the fatigue, the exhaustion, and the wounds. A part of her regrets going out of her bedroom.

They go through the gate between the two grand staircases leading to the study, they now stand before the three grandmasters of the Brotherhood.

"Celestine?" Quemar starts.

"You seem surprised seeing me out of my bedridden state, Master."

"Don't take it the wrong way, Celestine—we are glad you are well now." Guillaume.

"We have heard the news, Celestine, though the execution was reckless it still afforded Paris to be free of its shackles," Trenet comments in her regular manner.

"I suppose all of us can at least breathe loosely now—with the Grandmaster gone," Guillaume tells to his fellow Mentors but suddenly remembers something so he turns to Celestine, "By the way, what was it that Xavier wanted from us?"

There was a brief moment of silence, Celestine looks down to the checkered marbled floor as she tries to put the right things into words so as to not let the Mentors misinterpret her.

"Xavier wanted to retrieve the Sword of Eden to avenge Germain."

"Blinded by vengeance could lead to a massive catastrophe," Trenet.

"To himself." Celestine cuts in.

The three mentors agreed to what Celestine's comical remark and when the mood shifted back to normal, and they poured out all their gratefulness to the two Assassins.

"Celestine, thank you." Master Trenet was the first to give her thanks to the young Assassin, with her hand on her heart and making a slight bow to Celestine.

Guillaume and Quemar follow, doing the exact same gesture as Trenet to Celestine and she felt like her heart will drop anytime soon due to the immense beating of her chest. She doesn't know how to respond properly—at least that's what she thinks—and she can't decide whether to bow and gesture back or thank them and say her respects as well.

_It was too much to take even for this feisty lady._

"Is there something that you would like to tell us, Celestine?"

"N-Nothing…" She stutters, she was too obvious in projecting herself and abruptly bows while avoiding being too rude to the mentors—not waiting for their dismissal as soon as she leaves the chamber, Arno follows suit.

"Is there something wrong?" Arno.

Celestine stops in her tracks, she slowly turns around—as if ashamed to face her own lover—and he meets her sullen eyes.

"Do they know? Will they approve?"

Celestine's hand trails down to her lower abdomen, Arno notices this.

"Of course they will approve." Arno walks up closer to her, rubbing both of her arms, "Look, they won't mind at all. If you want something for the next days, or weeks, or even months—just tell me."

Celestine fell silent, her eyes straying away from her, and then returns to Arno's gaze.

"I just want rest, that's all…"

"Alright, let's get back upstairs."

Arno leads Celestine back to the mansion, escorting her back to her bedroom, and just when he takes off her coat.

"Hey, you'll be fine."

Celestine pulls herself closer to Arno, embracing him, and he hugs her back as he rests his cheek on the top of her head.

"Our family will be fine," Arno reassures.

Not long, as Arno leaves Celestine's room, a Brother stands to wait for him by the rails of the second floor's staircase.

"The Mentors ask for you." he firmly said and left without a word.

Arno headed downstairs and enters the Mentors' chamber, he faces them alone and it seemed that they have never left their places after Celestine and Arno left together.

"We sensed something that is troubling  _Madame_  Celestine." Mentor Quemar begins shortly after Arno has presented himself to them.

"Yes, Mentor."

"May you elaborate on that? She has become a bit secretive regarding certain things."

"The attack at the manor," Arno replies, "It haunts her."

"Why? She has done no fault in the siege."

"She takes the full responsibility of the injuries—as well as the casualties—of our fellow Assassins who joined the siege. It has become a chip in her shoulder. It's not good for the baby to have the mother overthinking such things."

"So… she's carrying." Trenet starts.

Arno is taken aback but he kept calm, "Yes."

"How many days has it been?"

"According to Madame Helena, it's roughly two or three weeks old."

There was no response from the Mentor, the exchange ceased for a moment so Arno continued.

"And yes, I am the father. I will neither deny it nor shirk from it."

"Is there something that you would like to tell us?" Guillaume.

Arno stops for a brief moment and tries to complete the sentence and make it sound polite as possible.

"It seems that Celestine wishes for a peaceful life during her pregnancy and perhaps until the child is born. I might bring her to the countryside or in my old home in Versailles."

"We understand fully of your situation; you may leave at your will but to our knowledge. That's not a difficult bargain, isn't it,  _Monsieur_  Dorian?"

"Not at all."

"Then we have discussed this in good terms. You may return upstairs now."

Arno bows politely and steps out of the chamber. Returning to his bedroom, leaving his pregnant wife in peace inside her own bedroom, he retires on his armchair in front of the hearth. Then, for a moment, on his study desk, he decides what he should do next—but not for the sake of his wife being pregnant, it's because he's been planning it ever since; he only meant to surprise Celestine… with an engagement ring.

* * *

**Arno's POV**

For two months, I took care of her and our unborn child. Celestine compensated for the trouble she has brought to our brothers by helping them mend and heal from their wounds—most of them suffered grave injuries and it took some time for them to fully recover—it was a constant cycle of fetching medicine from the apothecary and bringing it into the mansion to tend the injured. There was even a time that we required a cart to carry the supply crate.

The coin was not much of a problem as I have banked some in case of emergencies. The others volunteered to pour out their own for the sake of helping the others—for a fair share at the very least.

Celestine admitted that she was ashamed and afraid to face the other Assassins—they made her much more nervous than facing the Mentors—because she carried the burden of their injuries, the sting of their bruises, and the wrenching ache of their broken bones.

Indeed, it was her plan. She must have been so indulged with her leadership for the infiltration that she knew her obligations and responsibilities. Such a trait is both a blessing and a curse.

"You need to stop carrying their burdens," I tell her.

"But I brought it upon them."

"It's our occupational hazard as Assassins."

I watch her eyelids drop, she looks lower to ground and then her hand crawled up to her belly, carefully clutching our baby.

"Worrying won't do good on the baby."

"Yes, I know." Her voice trembles as she continues preparing the supplies for one of the Assassins having a gunshot wound on his bicep.

"Remember when… I got shot and you had to take out the wound out of me?"

She smiled, only a little but still, she did.

"You must be reminiscing how much of a whine I am."

She scoffs laughingly, "Well, it was quite difficult taking out the bullet."

"Was there any other morbid solution?"

She rolls her eyes up to ponder, "It'd be much more painful if I used that method."

"What would that be?"

"It involves sticking in a freshly-heated blade into the flesh."

The thought of it was ghastly, nonetheless, but of course, I had to lift up her spirits, "Surely it's not that bad."

"I wouldn't want to try it if I were you."

She starts to chuckle and then grows into a laugh.

"When was the last time I saw you laugh like that?"

"It's been so long, my dear."

I caress her cheek and we went out of the room together, we split directions—I took the direction to the showroom and she went to the guest rooms.

As I was wrapping one of my Brother's wounds with fresh new gauze, I have been noticing his gaze and I notice him make a quick glimpse of Celestine before she disappeared into the hallways.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" he suddenly starts as the blood blots up into a red circle in the center of the bandage.

"What?"

"The child inside her. A boy or a girl?"

I paused, unsure what to answer, "Well, regardless of either, I just want it to be healthy."

"Aye. May it be birthed in a peaceful world."

"Isn't this already a peaceful world, my friend?"

"I wouldn't prefer this world of whores, plague, and more soldiers rounding about the city as the ideal place for a child to grow up—give it a chance and do yourselves a favor at the same time, at least for once."

It made me wonder more, then this must not be really the place to raise a family. Even with the Master of the Templars dead, there's bound to be another one to take Xavier's place—perhaps someone more deranged than him—then they would know of my family.

_I can't let that happen._


	48. The Wedding

In the earlier days of Celestine's pregnancy, Arno has been going out with his brothers yet he never forgets to bring home some fruit and other food for Celestine—even though she does not ask for it. But of all the thing, he never forgets one thing. One that would symbolize that he's kept his promise all this time.

While roaming around the Luxembourg district with his brothers, Arno comes across a jeweller—since looting a ring isn't proper in any manner—and browses for his crafts. He forgets that he's accompanied by his three brothers.

"Oi, where you headin' at?" Siegfried.

Felix follows Arno's trail and his line of sight, he looks up and the finds the sign of the shop Arno's entering, the wooden headboard hanging on the metal pole reads " _bijoutier_ " in fading paint.

"What's he going to do in a jeweller's shop?" Felix.

"Might as well follow him and see." Octavien, the second rational Assassin among the four of them suggests, he takes the lead without waiting for the two to comment.

"Pretty sure he's not going to ransack that." Siegfried.

"I guess not." Felix says as he follows after Octavien.

They enter the shop and find Arno searching the display case of the crafter, looking at different handcrafted rings and their various designs. Seeing that the maker has put extra care and effort on the details of each design, Arno looks for one that would greatly suit Celestine—one that's befittingly unique and beautiful for Celestine.

Siegfried encircles Arno's neck with his arm and then bends him over straight to the case's glass display.

"So, whatcha lookin' at, brother?"

"What does it look like?" Arno chuckles as he becomes patient with his childish comrade.

He spots a ring with laurel leaves wreathed on both sides of the diamond, as it narrows down farther from the center stone it twists until it melts into the main band of the ring. He couldn't take his eyes off of it, Arno taps on the glass of the drawer as he speaks to the jeweller.

"How much for this?"

"Well, I see someone has taken an eye on one of my most exquisite designs. I can offer that to you for 50,000 livres."

"That's quite a sum you have there,  _monsieur_." Felix comments.

"Well, designs such as these are not to be taken lightly—or cheaply, for that matter." The jeweller replies without so much as a stammer, perhaps he's been told that a number of times whenever he names his price.

"I have to say,  _monsieur_ , you have quite the hand and eye for design."

" _Merci_. I can attest that I have high respect for my craft—if I say so myself."

"So what, Arno? Are you going to take it or not?" Octavien asks.

"It's for Celestine, right? You're going to propose today?" Siegfried excitedly asks.

Octavien nudges Siegfried on the head, "You don't say, Siegfried. Maybe Arno just wants to buy it to waste away 50,000 livres," he quickly turns to the crafter, "No offense. Just teaching my brother a lesson on common sense."

The crafter shrugs and then turns his attention to Arno, who quickly says, "I'll take it, please."

The crafter nods, turns his back on Arno to face another cabinet—revealing a row of ring boxes of different colors and material used for its covering. He runs his fingers on the wooden rack and makes a slight side-glance on Arno.

"What color would you like for the ring box, sir?"

"Uh," Arno peeks over the crafter's shoulder, "Blue."

"The dark one or the royal shade?"

"The dark one."

"Excellent choice."

The crafter—with his delicate hands—takes the dark blue velvet ringbox and then takes the ring from Arno's hand, he places the ring on the mould and flips the lid down. They exchange and Arno safely tucks the ringbox in the pocket of his breeches.

" _Merci, monsieur._ " Arno makes a short, courtly bow at the crafter, he gestures his brother to follow and they leave the shop.

As they scale the next building and disappear into the rooftop—with speeding grace they leap across gaps, crawl up the walls, vaulting or sliding under obstacles in their way, until they've regrouped at a bigger building's rooftop.

"So, how are you going to stage it then?" Felix.

"The what?"

"Did you forget just now?" Felix chuckles and points at Arno's pocket, "Your engagement ring for Celestine."

"Ah, I see… Well, I'll just naturally come in like I always do—I think she wouldn't see it coming."

They did not stay any longer, they headed back to the mansion and entered the house on the yard's entrance—then his brothers quietly spread the word to the maids and everyone else in the house, making sure they don't make a commotion to distract Celestine if ever.

"An engagement?!"

"How exciting!"

"No, it's romantic!"

"It's everything a woman could dream of!"

A group of maids tittered as they went with their work, spreading quicker than a plague, with Madame Helena calming them down. The maids who are doing the housekeeping have spread the word much quicker as they were going back and forth in the entire house.

Arno makes for Celestine's bedroom, expecting her to be there, but only finding it completely empty. He stands in the silence of the bedroom, a pool of light shining on the heels of his boots, and in that silence he hears her.

Arno can hear the female vocalizing of a familiar tune, a short string of music passed on by generations and played by ear. He follows it until the singing got louder and clearer. He paces through the varnished halls and finds himself ending up in the empty practice room—no Andre. He listens some more until he catches Celestine standing in the garden and humming, she was facing the small fountain with her back turned to Arno.

He steps out to the garden, he plucks a stem of baby's breath from one of the shrubs and slowly walks up to Celestine—who's still humming to that song—from behind.

"That song sounds soothing coming from you. Is it a lullaby?"

Celestine did not jump, she's already sensed Arno's presence, she turns to him and lovingly smiles at him.

"My parents used to sing that to me every night before I go to sleep—all this time, I've memorized it. Played it by ear as Mother would tell me."

"Mm-hmm."

Arno brushes away the hair to the back of Celestine's ear to pin the stem of baby's breath.

"How beautiful." He mutters as he pulls her in his arms while gently swaying back and forth.

"How's your venture with your brothers? I assume it was quite… exciting—like the good old days?"

"I'm back to taking care of the same old rascals. Feels like nothing changed."

"There were some, yes." She nods, "I think I did too."

"Yeah, like what?"

"My face. A growing womb. I felt like I've aged but I think my arts as an Assassin didn't."

Arno takes a moment to gaze at Celestine, tenderly he fixes his eyes on every feature of her face: the shape of her eyes, the upward curl of her eyelashes, the bridge of her nose, and her sweet and tender lips. Then his eyes trail down, he recognizes it—the necklace he gave to her not too long ago, although for him it did feel as if they've been together for a very long time.

"Celestine,"

"Yeah?"

"Remember that I kept you a promise not too long ago?"

Celestine nods as she looks at Arno's fingers gently fidgeting with the pendant of her necklace.

"The promise that soon the next one will be a ring after I gave you this?"

"I'm sure you'll keep your promise soon."

Arno smirks, "Why wait?"

Celestine's smile melts as she becomes confused. Then Arno pulls away from his hold on her, prepares himself to kneel on one knee and take out the ringbox. Celestine draws breath as he flips open the lid and reveals the ring to her.

"You've shown me that you were a unique, extraordinary woman—a walking flame of passion and at the same time a hearth of love and tenderness. Though we may not have started everything in good terms—you were a bit snarky towards me," his speech is cut off by both of them chuckling, even so he continues, "But nonetheless, all those moments you've shared with me, the memories that were never too fleeting, and the times when I felt time has stopped whenever I'm in your presence, I knew… I  _really_  knew that you're the woman I want to stay with for the rest of my life. And I promise I'll take care of you, our family, until the day we leave this world."

A tear escapes Celestine's eye, she draws breath with so many emotions mixing and coming in.

"Celestine Sauveterre, will you marry me?"

She huffs out a laugh of immense joy while crystal-clear tears make their way on her cheek while nodding she replies, "Yes… Yes, Arno Victor Dorian,  _I will marry you!_ "

Arno slipped the ring on her finger, he took her by the waist and held her up in the air, kissing her anywhere on her face—her chin, her jaw, her cheek, her mouth, just everywhere—with immeasurable happiness and uplifting joy that made his entire soul soar.

"I love you so much, Celestine, so much." He says, despite his voice being muffled as he buries his face on her neck.

"I love you too, Arno. I can't help this massive happiness I feel right now."

Arno raises his arm in mid-air as if escorting Celestine to a royal ball, and he leads her to the foyer of the second floor wherein Arno's three brothers and other Assassins were waiting on them.

"She said yes!"

The group of men roared in congratulatory cheer, alerting everyone in the mansion—despite being it filled with customers in the bar—of the joyous day. Octavien, Siegfried, and Felix piled up on Arno; congratulating him with heavy pats on his shoulder and Octavien even tousled his hood causing it to slightly fall off.

Word has reached to the Mentors themselves, they emerged from the underground chambers to personally congratulate the newly-engaged couple. Madame Gouze simply did not allow the excitement to die down so easily, she willingly took the responsibility of finding a wedding dress for Celestine whenever she's ready to fit it—knowing Madame Gouze, of course she would not let an occasion end so simply.

* * *

**Celestine's POV**

A few weeks after Arno proposed to me, Madame Gouze just told me that she's bringing me to a dress shop whose owner is a friend of hers. Some of the maids have been unnecessarily treating me like royalty—which was nice but I was not entirely accustomed to it. Today, we're going to that shop. She insists me to ride the carriage with her and how could I ever refuse?

As we boarded into the coach, I have this habit of looking through the window even though I'm seeing the same thing everyday—I guess I'm not very keen on looking away from reality sometimes.

"You're a lucky woman, Celestine." Madame Gouze starts.

I follow her eyes and they were fixed on my ring which I noticed I have been gently fidgeting with my free hand.

"It's not everyday a woman can get married in France. But you—you've caught yourself quite a trophy. Or should I say,  _he_  got the trophy."

I chuckle sheepishly, "I'm glad he kept his promise—although I was a bit surprised he made it come true just now."

"Why? Were you expecting it that quickly before?"

I shake my head, "No, it's because I thought he had the same idea—that he might propose once peace have spread across the city."

She sighs, as if I haven't learned a thing in this revolution, "Oh dearest, in this time it's only just if one seizes the opportunity before it gets stolen by anybody else. Not everyone can have a chance at peace or do anything they want at peace. Arno just took the chance on you before more disasters within the Brotherhood happened!"

Madame Gouze notices that I've gone silent, she leans forward a bit and taps my forearm lightly, " _You_  are his opportunity and he got you before you could even be swept away by some other man."

"I'm not that easy of a prey, Madame Gouze, although I think you're right."

"Hmm?"

"In this time, I guess you just take every chance you have."

As we arrive to the dress shop, I realized that we were somewhere in Luxembourg—since this is where most of the luxurious shops are, second would be Tuileries—Gouze requests the coach to wait for us and that we wouldn't take long. The way she acts today is like an aunt spoiling her favorite niece, although she has been very generous and kind to us all the time.

She pushes the door open, causing a bell hanging just above the rim to ring and alert the shopkeeper who is a flamboyant man clad in a powdered wig, a satin jacket, and a gold waistcoat—it's like a cleaner and Luxembourg version of De Sade.

He gasps exaggeratedly as if acting in an opera, "Charlotte! You managed time to come see me!"

"You know I'll always have time to see you and your masterpieces, Francois!" Gouze suddenly changes character—in a way.

They exchange cheek kisses and as Francois took Gouze by the shoulder, she marveled at his latest work worn on a wooden mannequin. Gouze expressively makes faces showing that she's mentally criticizing the work standing before her.

 _Am I the only one who's seen her act this way?_  I wonder.  _I guess not, she's probably had one or two of the maids come with her._

While the two long-lost friends catch up with each other, I got distracted by his designs and I have to admit they are very impressively elaborate and detailed too if looked at very closely. They were all so pretty that I was supposing that all of his works are undoubtedly expensive. Then he took notice of me.

"Well, well, who—in the King's name—is this blooming lotus?"

He walks up to me and takes my chin, tilting me up in an angle so we meet eye to eye.

Gouze clears her throat, "This is Celestine, Francois. Francois, Celestine."

"Francois-Antoine Beaumont,  _mademoiselle_." He introduces his full name as he bends to kiss my left hand.

"Enchanté,  _monsieur_."

He notices my engagement ring and pulls away, he makes an astonished expression at me and then shoots it to Gouze.

"My, my, Charlotte. You have brought me a young bride-to-be."

"Exactly, Francois, that's why I need you—the best tailor in all of Paris—to dress this young bride for her special day."

"Ah, no truer word! Come now, darling, let us have a look-see at my gowns and see which one resonates with you!"

And so I have to go through a closet full of carefully-kept gowns that he made. I opted for the simpler ones that requires no frame underneath the skirt. In this case, I have to talk in his language.

"Do you have anything that doesn't require me a frame underneath, no petticoat, and something that follows my silhouette?"

"I might have that—anything else?"

"I like one with long sleeves but made with thin material—like thin silk."

I made the dressmaker think and he continues to rummage through his dresses—which were majority the preferences of an aristocrat woman.

"You have quite a challenging taste— _I like it!_  It causes to squeeze out the art in me some more."

He emerges from the fluff of dresses he's thrown himself into and holds onto the hanger of a dress that seems slimmer than the others so I decided to give it a try—and God forbid that it was a mistake.

"It's too tight!" I gasp and take a deep breath to use up just to speak, "I can't move my torso in this."

"A tight fit's not good, Francois. Makes an itch worse."

"Hmm, I might have something in here that would be loose around your torso."

That's when I saw it—the perfect dress. It was standing at the corner of my eye and I had to take Francois's attention to it.

"What about that one? It seems to fit my preferences."

"Ah, that?" he chuckles, "My child, I have been saving this one creation for someone who can flawlessly slip into this fabric. I did not make particularly for anybody but I thought it would be a great waste if I let it dissolve in my mind and not make it real."

"It looks like a great fit on her, Francois."

"Very well, let us try!"

He takes it out and brings it closer to me, so I got a look of the details—fine silk, embroidery that just blends into the dress, a soft sheer neckline that softly hugs the neck and collarbones of the wearer—it was elegant and beautiful.

"Oh, Francois, this is beautiful. May I try it on, please?"

"Of course, you can, darling. Go on now, we'll wait for you here."

He lets me take the dress and I slip into it. I was quite surprised that it smoothly falls right into place and it doesn't give me that constricting feeling. Just what I wanted a dress would be. The sleeves covered my arms down to my wrists, I can feel the soft chiffon fabric tickling my neck down to my chest, then the silk fits just right around the inch below my shoulders partially exposing my chest, and the body of the dress hugging me gave me that comforting feeling. I come out of the dressing room and showed myself to Francois and Gouze.

As I come out, they gasp in awe and I could've sworn I almost saw Francois shed a tear.

"You look  _glamorous_!" Francois exclaimed, almost teary-eyed.

"Didn't I tell you, it's a perfect fit!"

"I implore you, Celestine, this is the closest to perfection you can get!"

"Oh Francois, the design is everything I dreamed my dress would be!" I tell him and much to his delight, he claps and he joins Gouze.

"Well, are we taking it, Celestine?" Gouze.

"Yes, please!"

"Then it's settled! I want this dress delivered by the theater before sunset, Francois!"

She tosses a bag of money onto his counter and he prompted me to change back into my regular clothes. We returned to the carriage and then headed back home.

"Thank you, Madame Gouze," I tell her as sincerely as I can.

"It's not a problem, darling. You look extraordinary in that dress! I have a feeling that he really made it for you."

"But it's the first time we met."

"Francois told me that he envision a young woman wearing his dress. When you were changing, he told me that you match the young woman in his vision as he was making it. He was quite surprised, and he never expected the perfect wearer would come. He thought that it was just going to be another stock kept in his closet."

As we arrived back home, Arno asked me about my day in the dress shop with Madame Gouze and I told him that it was alright, I told him everything and tried to paint a mental picture on his mind as I try my best to describe the gown that I just chose.

"You're not allowed to look at it at any time—not until our wedding day."

"You really have a knack for building up the thrill,  _mademoiselle_  Dorian."

I chuckled, lightly pushing his shoulder as he gives back a mischievous chuckle; I let my hand slide down to his hand, take hold of it, and lead him upstairs to the Legacy Room. As we got there, we look at the caged robes of the Master Assassins before us.

"Hey, Arno,"

"Hm?"

"Do you think... our robes will be displayed here, too? Not that I'm demanding it to happen, but would it be?"

"I'm not sure either, but time will give us the answer."

He embraces me from behind. The same warm embrace that he secures me with that makes me feel ever so safe.

* * *

With much preparation done, the day has come for Celestine and Arno to get married—with the Brotherhood as their witness—they will exchange vows in the Notre Dame without so much as attracting a crowd, because they'd like to keep it intimate.

Arno and his best men—his Brothers—went to the church first, along with some of their friends tagging along with them. Whilst Celestine, her cousin, and Madame Gouze—along with a few of the maids—were left in the mansion to help her get ready. Knowing Juliette's skill, Celestine trusted her to fix her makeup and hair while Madame Gouze asks for the maids to start preparing the dress, the veil, and her shoes. Each maid held a piece of the outfit and they all skittered their way towards Celestine.

Juliette's finishing touch on Celestine is adorning a steam of white baby's breath on her loose yet elegant braid. As soon as Juliette becomes satisfied with her work on her cousin, she claps her hands and asks for the maids to start dressing her.

"Now remember, bow your head when putting on the dress headfirst, we don't want a smudge on that pretty face."

"Yes, Juliette."

Carefully, the maids slip the dress into Celestine. The fabric falls in place with the curves of her body, the chiffon temptingly reveals a translucent view of her skin, and the sleeves perfectly hug the slenderness of her arms. Then Juliette and Madame Gouze threw the veil up in the air and let it billow down to the crown of Celestine's head. One of the maids bent down to the floor to fit Celestine's shoes. With the bride all dolled up, all the women marveled at the sight of Arno's wife.

To them, at first, Celestine was another Assassin brought in by the Mentors, kept under Arno's tutelage and now his wife.

"How time flies!" a middle-aged maid exclaims while holding back tears.

"Oh, Arno is going to go head over heels for you over and over again, darling!" another exclaims.

"Come now, we mustn't let the coach wait too long."

Celestine is dressed in that perfect dress that Francois implored her to take and wear on her wedding, she is delivered to the church with their coach kept outside the theater café while Arno waits anxiously—in a good way—at the altar with his Brothers by his side.

Upon seeing that Arno has been fidgeting ever since they got to the church, Octavien gives Arno a brotherly tap on the shoulder, reassuring him.

"Hey, quit your fidgeting. You're not getting cold feet  _now_ , are you?" he jokingly prompts.

Arno shakes his head, "No, I'm actually quite excited that I can't seem to control it."

Octavien gives him a small shake on the shoulder, "You'll get through it. Let's wait for your amazing bride now."

Meanwhile, the horse draws the coach through the cobblestone roads of Paris. Along with Celestine is her maid of honor, her cousin Juliette who is dressed in a simple yet elegant gown that she bought from Francois as well. The young cousin can't seem to stop basking in the radiance of her cousin-bride.

"You really are beautiful, cousin."

"Thank you, Juliette."

"I must say: Arno  _is_ a lucky man. The way he proposed to you is very romantic!" she sighs in fascination.

"I wasn't really expecting him proposing that soon, it was all too quick—I felt like my mind stopped working for a moment there, it almost feels like time has passed so much, and all I could see and hear was him."

"Would it feel the same way for me?"

"That depends, Juliette. You might experience it differently than I did."

"Nevertheless, I think it would be magical. Was it magical for you?"

Celestine nods meekly, "Yes, it was. Very much."

The carriage comes to a steady halt, Juliette dismounts the carriage first and then Celestine follows while being guided by some of the Assassins who came with her using another carriage.

"Are you ready, my dear?" Madame Gouze asks the bride before asking the doors to be open.

Celestine takes a deep breath and Juliette hands her the bouquet.

"I'm ready."

As the door opens, all heads turn to Celestine—they gasp at the sight of her radiant beauty which shines across the stone walls and marble pillars of the cathedral, sunlight pooling in through the stained glass windows, stone saints benevolently keeping watch of every movement she makes as if guarding her while reveling at the immaculate sight of this young woman. She makes her way to the aisle, a bouquet of flowers handpicked by the mansion's gardener in her hand, a veil that came along with her dress when they received it partially shrouds her face but through Arno's eyes he can see his future coming to him.

As she joins Arno by his side in front of the altar, the priest acknowledges them together as he gestures a Sign of the Cross while reciting it verbally, he begins with the ceremonial rites. In between sermons, Arno and Celestine would catch each other glancing at one another and exchanging shy smiles. Both hearts pounding loudly and Arno manages to sneak in a whispering conversation with his bride.

"You look amazing."

"So are you." she replies with a playful smug, and then she adds, "I could get used to you seeing you like this."

A chuckle escapes Arno's throat and once more he glimpses at Celestine who in a few moments will be his wife.

They are ordained, sanctified, and blessed by the priest and came to the moment where they exchange vows.

"Celestine, when I asked you to marry me, I promised that I would take care of you, our children, our family, until the day we leave the earth—I can vouch to you that I will stay true to my word, to my vow to love you forever and care for you as I repay you from all the times you've given your time to me to make memories that I cherish ever since. Now I can celebrate my life with you, my beloved wife. 'Til death do us part."

"Arno, my adventures would have never been perfect without you. I thank you for all those memories, our close encounters, and all our stolen moments together. This is quite the best surprise of my life and the best because you were the reason behind it. As we grow together from now on, my love for you will never change—not even a single inch—and I promise to continue loving you and caring for you with the same tenderness I showed you the time we first got closer. I love you, my dear husband, and we will be together 'til death do us part."

The priest gives them his final graces and he pronounces them as husband and wife. Arno carefully flips over the veil that partially conceals his wife's glowing face. As they clearly see each other eye to eye, Arno and Celestine sealed their matrimony with a long, passionate kiss while their witnesses—the Brotherhood, their family—cheer them on with loud clapping, whooping, and whistling. Teary-eyed maids happily toss rose petals into the air as Celestine and Arno make way to the aisle with their friends.

For a moment, the couple felt time tick slower, they see two figures standing at the door of the church—they were familiar to both Celestine and Arno. Those two figures were the spirits of Elise and Alessio, they smile back to the newlywed couple who smile at them and bow, they bow back to say farewell before they move on and vanish into the light. The newlyweds look at each other and just smile, knowing that the ones they have loved had already passed on to a newer light.

And now, they continue their story as husband and wife.


	49. Firstborn

**Arno's POV**

As our days become weeks and those weeks become months, Celestine's belly grew and our Brothers recovered one by one—of course, they had their own spans of rest and in no time we already see them running about, it's like they've never been hit by gun and sword at all. This delighted Celestine very much. When they were still recovering, she did most of the medical work wherein I would overhear her muttering—only to find out that she was making amends with our brothers, apologizing and asking for their forgiveness but of course she was not expecting it to be given to her right away.

Well, as for Octavien, Felix, and Siegfried—they're better than ever, still, the same old rascals that I need to look after. But the entire household seems more excited about the baby. When the other Assassins have recovered, most of them showed utter eagerness about the baby.

A few have dared to ask of its future—if we would raise it to become an Assassin even during its childhood or have it live a normal life—Celestine and I couldn't have a more proper answer.

Then when Celestine begins to crave for something, the maids begin to theorize on the baby's gender. They said that the shape of a mother's belly predicts the gender—if it was rounded, it's a girl, and if it was pointed then it'd be a boy. Then one went on about the consistency of a mother's mood swing—if she were irritable, her unborn child is a son, if she were kind throughout her pregnancy, it'd be a girl. The theories went on. Poor Celestine couldn't even follow because she doesn't believe those—she says with conviction that she'll only know so once she's delivered it.

"Most of those sayings come from their mothers, those maids." Madame Helena mumbles to Celestine.

"Really? My mother never taught me that." Celestine replies honestly.

"Wise woman that mother of yours. Not everything in the world runs by superstition. Now, is there something you'd like?"

Celestine meekly shakes her head, "No, Madame, but thank you for your concern."

"Let me know if the ladies are bothering you, I'll give them a good talking."

"That won't be necessary, Madame."

Some of the maids willingly tend to Celestine's needs even when she can manage herself. Even whenever Madame Helena reprimands them, stopping them from pestering Celestine, they still come with baskets of fruit and bread and a jug of milk. Although Celestine cannot help it even if she refuses in her sweetest way.

As she sews on her armchair in her bedroom, I watch her as I sit on the strongbox at the foot-end of her bed. She still retains her youthful glow, her pinkish cheeks, the way her breast falls and rises, her slender fingers pressed on the needle, and how her watchful eyes follow the string into the fabric.

"Seems that you have everyone on your whim."

"More like the baby than I." she chuckles as she pauses to take a drink.

"How are you feeling?" I ask her.

She glances at me, the pool of light shining on her face—illuminating her radiance. "I'm fine,  _amour_."

I stand from the strongbox and then took a stool to sit next to her. I examine her handiwork, it looked like a bonnet and she has made intricate designs using only stitches to form a spiraling paisley pattern.

"Arno," she says as she continues with the sewing.

"Hmm?"

"When we have our baby, I know a perfect place in the countryside of Italy. I know a place in Monteriggioni or in Firenze. We can get there by carriage or simply by horseback, it may take days but the trip's end will be all worth it."

My fingers fidgeted with her hair, my thumb rubs the silky strand of her brown hair, she doesn't seem bothered by it as she continues to sew. I carefully take her hand holding the bonnet and my lips plant on the skin of her hand. I felt her fingers reach softly on my jaw and run down to trace it.

"We will see how things go,  _amour_ ," I tell her gently.

I watch her handiwork—slender fingers repeat the same routine, gradually moving to a spiraling direction, and then another, until she would complete a whole spiral and proceed to another spot to embroider it again. She would have pauses from the sewing, hold her belly and take deep breaths.

"If it were a girl, what would be her name?" I ask her.

She looks at me, then her eyes trail down whilst thinking, "Well, I haven't actually thought about it yet. Not even for a boy's name. Maybe it will come to me soon."

"I see. I'm sure you'll come up with something unique."

"I hope so."

As she was about to continue with her sewing, she was shocked and quickly clutched her abdomen. She looks at me again but this time with eyes widened with awe and she spoke to me with heaved breathing.

"Is something wrong?!" I panicked.

"It kicked!" she gasped happily.

She exhales in laughter.

"What?! A-Are you sure?"

"Yes, I felt it! Here,"

She takes my hand and places it on one part of her belly, we wait for a few minutes and I caught the same excitement as hers, I felt a short bump hit my palm and I met eyes with Celestine. We found ourselves laughing with immense joy.

"Are you listening to me and your mama, my darling?" I coo while still touching Celestine's womb.

Celestine laughs softly, "I'm glad I've made a family with you."

I caress her cheek, lean forward to tenderly kiss her, "I'm much gladder to have you as my wife."

* * *

Months later, Celestine has approached her later months of pregnancy and she's close to giving birth to their first child. Since she isn't allowed to do anything else, she passes the time by sewing more infant's clothing—with the bonnet she made as the first one—until she's completed a whole outfit for her baby.

As the days of the month pass, the child has been kicking more often—despite the excitement, it has made Celestine less mobile, slowing her down and forcing her to stay in one place. Days for Celestine went by like this.

"My darling, you're being quite a handful," Celestine coos in a motherly tone, something she's developed throughout her pregnancy, "But it's all right, mama's doing everything she can. I can't wait to have you in my arms."

Whenever Celestine would talk to her child, it would kick but not so much in a way that it would hurt her, rather it delighted her.

"How much longer do you think it will come out?" Arno asks.

"I don't know, but I suppose anytime soon," Celestine replies.

Whenever they're not busy thinking about the baby, Celestine helps with cleaning up and disposing of the bandages they've used up and decided to restock their medicines. The maids did not allow her to move too much—if there's an instance wherein something had to be moved from one room to the other and Celestine's about to do it, the maids would stop her in the tracks, take whatever it is she has in her hands and transport the deliverables themselves for the sake of not wearing out Celestine.

Another week enters. Celestine is beginning to feel different and she feels her abdomen tightening a bit. Today, she stays in the library—in the spot where she used to teach Italian to Arno: the satin armchair. If there is something that she does in her spare time, it's reading, or lounging in the garden. Before, she would spend her leisure in the practice room where she would try different weapons—but since she's quick with child, Andre does not allow her to lift any weapon in the room, especially an ax.

In the third week of the day, it is a rather cold night, Arno and Celestine get some peaceful quality time together in Arno's bedroom—in front of the hearth, they sit in velvet armchairs while enjoying a cup of warm chamomile tea.

"I hope moments like these don't vanish even if we have a child," Celestine mutters.

"It won't. I'll make sure we'll still these kinds of moments—the good old days." Arno reassures her.

A smile curves up in Celestine's docile and calm face, she takes another sip of the tea and realizes that she has drunken the last drop. She shifts her position to stand up and Arno sets aside his cup to help her.

" _Grazie_. I'll just get some more."

She stands up and makes for the door, until she drops the porcelain cup as she feels an abrupt contraction within her—a pain writhing in her that feels as if something is constricting her and feels warm fluid trickling down her legs—she leans to the door and gasps, panting for air, looking down she saw a thin amount of blood mixing with the water on her legs.

"Arno!  _Aidez-Moi!_  The baby…!"

Arno rushes to her side and carries her to his bed, pushing himself to the highest volume of his voice, he cries for help.

"Help! Celestine's giving birth! Madame Helena!"

The person nearest to them was a maid who seems to be just finishing her housekeeping rounds until she heard the painful moaning of Celestine and Arno calling for help. She rushes to the open door and finds Celestine squirming in discomfort and pain while Arno lends his hand for her to grip on.

"You! Please, call the maids! My wife is giving birth!"

" _Oui, monsieur! Tout de suite!"_  the maid says as she rushes downstairs to alert the maids and most importantly Madame Helena.

"Madame! It's  _Mademoiselle_  Celestine! She's about to give birth!"

Everyone in the work quarters ceased their work, indulging in the excitement and the tension happening altogether, but Madame Helena remains level-headed.

Madame Helena took it upon herself to act as the midwife while she assigns the maids to bring what she needs, "Bring me towels and a large basin of water," she turns to the housekeeper, "Where are they?"

"In  _monsieur_  Arno's bedroom."

"I want everything I need in Arno's bedroom in two minutes.  _Prêt!_  Quickly now."

The maids holding towels scampered behind Madame Helena, one maid ran ahead to the well to fetch the water for the basin and told her fellow maidens that she will be with them in a minute.

The maids saw Celestine struggling for breath as Arno becomes frantic, though his panic subsided when Madame Helena arrived at the scene. The oldest of the maids remained calm while guiding Celestine through her birthing.

"Celestine, no matter what happens, I need you to listen to me. Understand?"

"Yes…!" she gasps.

"Arno, hold her hand."

Arno immediately obeys and watches how everything works.

Madame Helena counts to three before Celestine could push and after every push, she attempts to catch her breath. One of the maids holding the towel wiped the sweat off of Helena's brow. It was a series of constantly asking for a soaked towel to wipe off the fluid coming out of Celestine as she pushes and pained moaning in the middle of the night where the man holding a rod begins to light the candles of the lampposts out in the streets.

Hours have passed, though it seems that the people in the room have lost the track of time as they were focused on delivering the baby. For Helena, it was a relief to her old heart to hear the words "I can see the head" come out of her own mouth, and then for another span of hours, the rest of the infant comes out.

As soon as the baby has been finally pulled out, Helena slaps its flank until it cries, through Celestine's hazed vision from her puffy, teary eyes, she sees the blurred sight of her firstborn.

"It's a boy. He's healthy." Madame Helena announces.

She asks for the maids' help to carefully clean the babe and cut the cord. The room is filled with the cries of an infant boy—Celestine and Arno's firstborn.

Tears roll down her tired face as Madame Helena brings the bathed baby closer to the mother.

"Laurent Victor…" Celestine indistinctly whispers.

"What?" Arno asks.

"His name… I want to name him Laurent Victor…" she repeats and anxiously waits for Arno's approval, she sees the smirk on his face as he looks at her.

"I think it's a wonderful name."

"You think so?"

Arno sincerely nods.

The infant continues to cry but quiets down when Celestine brings her son closer to her breast, she coddles him but lets him cry so that it would strengthen his lungs; she waits it out for a few minutes and then takes the attempt to breastfeed him and he suckles hungrily.

The maids catch a glimpse of the baby and were all swooning and fawning over how beautiful the infant is. But when Madame Helena snaps them back to the reality that they still have work to do, Arno and Celestine were left alone with their son.

"I'm glad both of you are all right." Arno.

"Do you want to carry him?"

Arno got startled, and then Celestine guided him on how to properly handle an infant. With her free hand—that was supposedly holding the bottom of the baby—she manually positions his arms and she hands over Laurent to him.

"Mind his head."

"He's so little." Arno begins to fawn over his son.

Arno tenderly looks at a sleeping Laurent, whispers that he'll grow up handsome like his father until Celestine cuts in, "I hope not as mischievous as you."

But then Arno became serious with a promise, "I promise I'll take care of you and your mother. I'll always protect you. One day, when you're big and strong, I'll teach you everything you need to know."

Two months later, Celestine and Arno temporarily lived in Versailles where it was less troublesome as Paris. Arno had someone who knew his late father arrange where they could live in peace even though it's no absolute guarantee that they would live in peace. In the quiet night, they left the mansion using a concealed carriage with a two-month-old Laurent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRENCH:
> 
> Aidez-Moi! – Help me!
> 
> Prêt! – Pronto! (from Italian)


	50. Epilogue I - The Dorian Children

In the countryside, gentle hands glide across the blades of grass underneath the warm afternoon sun. Little feet patter through the earth as they chase the dragonflies. Curious eyes watch how a butterfly gently lands on a flower and then flies away after a few seconds—a chase follows leaving trails of thrilled laughter.

 _Papa?_  An innocent voice calls in the middle of the meadow.

Concealed within the tall grass, Arno springs out—playfully mocking a monster complete with a roar—and bear-hugs his 5-year-old son, Laurent. They frolic across the meadow as Arno mounts Laurent on his shoulders. While Celestine keeps a close eye on her 3-year-old twins who were walking around a patch of flowers and picking little violets, arranging them into a bouquet before giving it to their mother.

The twins play tag with one another until they caught up with their big brother, Laurent, and later with their father. One of the three children stopped rather than catching up with the game, Sephora—the eldest twin—looks back to her mother and walks up to her.

"Hmm, what is it, Sephora? Go play with your brothers and father." Celestine remarks.

Young Sephora shakes her head and plucks more flowers, "Help me make a crown, just like the fairy."

Celestine smiles as she understands, she recalls the fairy in the storybook that she reads to her daughter every night before going to sleep, "Alright then. Do you want me to help get flowers?"

Sephora nods and proceeds to pick flowers, only this time she did it much more selectively than she did with Sebastien—her twin—she picked ones that she did not notice the first time, and then took some more violets and baby's breaths to vary the sizes and colors of her bunch.

Celestine picked the ones nearest her, she didn't exactly know what Sephora had in mind but she thought of picking the nice ones that her daughter would like to have in her crown. After a few minutes when Sephora thought that she has picked enough, she walks back up to her mother asking for help to intertwine them all together.

"Mama, help me stick them together." The child was trying to stick the flowers stem to stem, unaware of how intertwining them works, thinking that they would stick as long as the ends would meet, Celestine gently chuckles to the innocent thought and took Sephora's bunch to tie the flowers together.

She prompted her daughter to sit on the gap between her legs so that she can manually coach Sephora's hands on tying the ends of the stems while making sure not to put too much pressure on it to avoid snapping.

While Sephora continues to tie the stems together, Celestine focuses her attention to her husband and sons—they were pretending to be fencers and they mimicked the dance of their father as he cuts the air with a wooden toy sword. Sephora, fiddling with the petals as she notices her mother, observes the movements that her father made as he cuts and lunges at the air.

"Mama, can I play like that?"

Lightly startled, Celestine looked at Sephora's pleading eyes and she smiled as she kissed her daughter's forehead.

"If you like, dear. Would you like to play with Papa?"

"I'll finish my flowers."

She quickly returned to her current work, there were three long-stemmed flowers left, the smaller flowers were slipped in between the knots as decoration. As soon as she was satisfied with her work, she abruptly sprung up from her mother's lap and started instructing Celestine.

"Mama, look! For you."

Sephora's made a crown of flowers for Celestine and as Celestine gently bows down her head, little Sephora softly crowns her mother with flowers.

"I thought you were making it for you so you can look like the fairy?"

"No, it's for you, Mama!"

Celestine's little daughter smile beamed brighter than the countryside sun. Before letting her off to join her brothers and father, her child's lips planted a tender and innocent kiss on hers and then went skipping through the grass, later on joining the swordplay; that's when she realizes that their path is inevitable and they would eventually walk the same path as she and Arno did.

The three children played at a close distance to their parents who are sitting right next to each other watching them. Then Celestine took the chance of bringing it up before it slips out of her mind.

"They seem to be naturals." Celestine commented on her children pretending to be fighting with swords.

"They seem to be." Arno agrees.

"Arno,"

"Yes?" he detects the hint of worry in her voice.

"Will they have the same life as ours or will we give them a normal life?"

"I'm afraid I do not have the specific answer to that. Don't you think that they'll eventually end up in the same life as ours despite living a normal one?"

"Perhaps… I suppose it can't be helped. It'll manifest from us—our impulses, our training, everything we know—and they will see what kind of people we are. Pretty soon, they might  _be_  the kind of people we are."

"I'm sure they'll understand."

"To a certain extent, depends on their age, their understanding… and how they view us as their parents."

"Don't fret,  _amore_ , let us make sure we know our approach before telling them anything about us. For now, let them be children."

"Laurent seems to idolize you." she muses a comment.

Arno scoffs laughingly, "Well, he sure does know how to fight an angry bear."

"A scruffy one too."

Both exchange laughter, then Arno's gaze falls onto his wife.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You haven't aged a day—still as beautiful as the moment I met you in the grand chamber."

"And you, sir, are still the sly dog that charms his way to women."

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" he plays.

Arno pulls in Celestine for a kiss—as tender as he always does.

After a day of their playtime, their parents mounted them on their horses—the twins staying with Celestine and their eldest sitting with Arno—before they could. They spurred on the sides of their horses' bellies and proceeded to a leisurely trot.

Their way home lulled the children to sleep—even though it's not far of a trip from the meadow to their homestead.


	51. Epilogue II - The Dorian Triumvirate

"Alright, where are you hiding?"

He stands in the middle of the common backyard of a desolate house, assuming that it's where his targets have flung.

The gloom after a rainfall masks the town, cloaking the alleys with growing fog. In the silence, a young novice listens for anything foreign in his surroundings—as he was taught by his mentors—be it the faintest clunk of the cobblestone roof, the faintest ripples of a puddle, or the growing sound of footsteps, he listens.

Pretending to not hear the nearing threat, he prepares his wrist to flex it for the blade will easily slip out of his sleeve.

He listens for the sound of what's coming to him…

_Closer…_

_Getting closer… now._

_NOW!_

With a swift turn, the novice flicks his wrist, cuts a curve in the air and his blade meets with another. The clang of blades echoed in the square.

"You listened well—but not well enough,  _big brother._ "

"You could've done better with your hiding, Sebastien." Laurent rebuts.

Sebastien Charles—the youngest child and the younger twin—now grown into a young man with his mother's eyes and his father's face, and not a little boy frolicking in the meadow playing toy swords with his siblings anymore.

"I thought Father taught us to listen until the target is in the closest proximity to you?" Sebastien says it more of as a taunt than a lesson review.

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, a Phantom Blade darts through and breaks off the clash between Laurent and Sebastien's hidden blades.

Stepping out of the shadows of the alley, a young woman whose long brown hair spills down to her stomach who grew up to her mother's own likeness although she has that peculiar way of concealing her lethal nature with her meek and charming looks.

Sephora Celeste Dorian. Now aged nineteen, she's grown up with her mother's eyes—that razor sharp side-look that captures men's attention

She walks up to her brothers, "Another thing both of you forget—there's always someone waiting to strike when you're off guard."

"Of course, there's our sly but pretty little sister." Laurent.

"Just yours—I'm the older twin, remember?"

"You just had to rub off the part of you being older than me, huh?" Sebastien groans.

"Because someone has to keep you two in check," she retracts her Phantom Blade and draws out her twin blades, "Shall we dance, boys?"

Both of her brothers draw out their sword, and Sebastien lets out a confident exhale, "Ready or not, sister."

The series of slashing and cutting looked more like a synchronized dance than a sight of carnage. The grace of the three siblings matched with one another. Each lunge, each thrust, each block—all seem so coordinated thanks to their skill and training. The swirl and clang of swords rung across the square. The battle for a victor felt endless until both Sebastien's and Laurent's blade meet each of Sephora's twin swords.

For a second there, time feels as if it has slowed down. The three novices hear the sounds of their heaving breaths… and footsteps.

"Impressive," Came a voice from amongst them, one fell swoop and landed in a crouch came their father who has developed a husk of a voice all these years raising three children and training three novices, "It seems that all three of you remember our lectures to you in one way or another."

Their mother made a subtly dramatic entrance from a rooftop in their six o' clock direction. Smoothly, she leaps down from the cobblestone roof and joined her husband.

"Your stealth skills are progressing respectively." Celestine comments on her children and she slowly turn her eyes to Laurent, casting a gentle motherly gaze on her despite her rank as a Mentor, "You need work in your stealth and your ability to listen to your surroundings—you almost had Sebastien if you waited a little bit more to strike."

"Yes, Mother."

She walks up to her eldest son, places her palm on his cheek to which he lovingly presses on to, never seems to be getting enough of their mother's touch.

"You're learning well, my son."

"Thank you, Mother."

"You'll be an Assassin in no time." She smiles at him so reassuringly.

A glint shone in Laurent's eyes. The boy's shoulders squared.

Then Arno gathered his children and formed a circle.

"Well now, I suppose that'll have to do for today. We can continue another day—you three should rest, you all deserve it."

Arno claps the shoulders of his sons and then Sephora walks up to embrace her parents before she catches up with her brothers. She makes a quick jog—gaining momentum—and leaps towards the wall and scales up to the roof and then vanishing as she trails along the roofs of Paris.

"They are learning fast, Celestine."

"I know—in a few days, they may deserve their initiation earlier than expected."

"You raised them well."

" _You_  taught them well." she rebuts.

They exchange smirks and they scale the wall up to the roof, making their way to the shore of the river in the Ile de la Cité. They disappear into the narrow single-file gate that leads into the tunnel and then into the chambers of the Brotherhood.

Meanwhile, the Dorian siblings regroup at the roof of the Pantheon. They oversee the activity on the streets on the dome while talking out their thoughts—ones that they can only disclose with one another in the fear that their parents may not approve.

"Have you ever watched one of the initiations of any Assassins a few years back?" Sebastien starts.

"I saw two. The first one I watched, I was 11. The other was when I was 17." Laurent answers to Sebastien's question since he wasn't asking anybody in particular.

"I think we were with you at the time when you were 17," Sephora adds.

"Where were you two then?"

"We were at the barred doorway that straight up gives you a view of the main chamber," Sephora nudged her twin's arm, "We were together back then, right? We were just hiding behind the sides."

Sebastien briefly pauses to remember and he flinches as a response, "That's right," he makes a complimentary nod, "Yeah, we were there."

"I was at the end of the study hall," Laurent adds.

"I wonder what we have to do next once we're initiated?" Sebastien excitedly blurts.

"Wow, you really can't get that out of your head, can you?" the way Laurent says it jokingly.

"You might as well sleep it off, Sebastien." His sister jokes.

A brief moment of laughter amongst the siblings and they look down on the bustle of the Pantheon district.

"There is a new Templar Grandmaster out there, isn't there?" Sebastien starts again.

"Yes, but I guess we haven't caught a glimpse of what kind of person he is," Sephora replies.

Suddenly, they're alerted by the sound of a woman crying as she was struggling—exclaiming in full French—while three extremists attempt to steal her two children—who are wailing as they feebly reach for her. The mother runs for them, attempts to snatch them back, weakly hitting the large-bodied extremist at his sturdy back but the companion strikes her until she stumbles to the dirt—her children wail louder but the fat extremist violently shakes them in the hopes of quieting them down. Bystanders and vendors circle around the scene, some are interested while some pass the responsibility to call for help.

"We have to go." Sephora initiates.

The siblings took action with Sephora having the first impulse to jump down and her brothers follow. She gently lands behind the wailing mother, and the extremist who struck the woman took notice of Sephora.

"Let them go. What value are her children to you?" her voice was loud and clear, the extremists stop and even the captive children have stopped crying.

"Oi, you best be minding your own, little birdie," the companion threatens as he walks up to her, "You look like a fine little wench, aren't ye? I bet me-self and my friends are gonna have a feast on ya."

The swordsman looked back to his two other companions, they chuckled in agreement, and then he looked back to Sephora.

Sebastien appears out of nowhere from behind, "Show some respect to women, eh?"

The extremist had little time to react as Sebastien had already driven his Hidden Blade deep into his stomach. The crowd had dispersed in fear while Sephora took the advantage of the fat extremist's ability to register what was happening—she shot four consecutive Phantom Blades into the fat one's legs, two for each calf and before he could even drop the children, she ran up to him and caught them both.

"Run!"

They scurry back to their mother who fled as soon as she took hold of her children, although the children looked back and watched as much as they could of the Assassins' actions, to an innocent child it is a sight to behold like in their storybooks.

The fat extremist still has some strength in his legs despite having four blades plugged into his flesh. He brandishes his sword and comes charging at Sephora like an angry bull. She fluidly evaded, drew her sword, and blocked his attack. Regaining her composure, she fences the towering man and continuously dodges him. Recalling her lectures from her parents during training—she uses her lithe body as an advantage to confuse and tire the enemy as she moves much nimbler than larger enemies.

" _Assassins!_ " the remaining extremist angrily screams, certain of the reassurance that they had more comrades lurking before he could yell the second time—Laurent had already sliced his throat.

They come flooding through the scrambling townspeople, more and more of them. They surround the siblings who are clustered together with their backs to one another forming a small triangle.

"Well, that's one way to call a backup." Sebastien quirkily remarks.

"You should've known they do this ever since we lived here!" Sephora rebuts as she takes down a gunman and drives her sword into his heart as she's flipped him down to the ground.

"Sometimes, I miss the countryside," Laurent adds.

"Oh so now you're daydreaming about our next getaway?" Sephora.

"I'm just saying that it's a healthy way of escaping the stress." Laurent casually answers while elbowing a lancer and simply plug a blade into his neck.

"Save it when we get home, brother, we have some rebels to kill." Sebastien sniggers, easily deflecting a blow from an axeman who he jokingly compliments as he uses his free hand armed with the Hidden Blade, "Good arm, man—but not good enough."

"Hey, Sephora, are you done yet?"

"Just finishing up, Laurent."

She finishes a pair of lancers coming at her, as she deflects their lance she got a quick glimpse of the material of their lances, actually admiring them, "These are _really_  nice partisans."

The lancers got confused and she got the upper hand as her swords dangerously dance and cut through flesh—killing the lancer pair in unison. The bodies thud at her feet, she sheathes her swords and looks back at her brothers who are collectively giving her a look with a raised eyebrow.

"What? Come on, the iron was nice."

"Sure, Sephora."

"See for yourself, Seb!"

"You know, the three of us actually make a pretty good team."

Sephora scoffs, "Come on, big brother when was the time that we weren't?"

"That's true. How about we make a guild of our own?" Laurent suggests.

The twins shot him a look this time, "Are you serious?"

"It'll be great!" Laurent insists, he dramatically monologues to emphasize the glory he visualizes to his brother and sister, "The children of Arno and Celestine Dorian, leading a group of aspiring Assassins to protect the fate of Paris. We'll be known as…  _the Dorian Triumvirate_. Sounds good, yeah?"

"Mother and Father will surely pommel you with all the weapons in the house just to get you back to your senses." Sebastien jokes.

"But it's good, yeah? Come on, admit it, you two."

"Can we discuss this once we're  _formal_  Assassins?" Sebastien.

"Let's go home. I want to see how Mother and Father react when they see this." Sephora.

"Don't forget Uncle Siegfried, Octavien, and Felix!" her twin adds.

"Oh Lord, those three just makes it all better."

As they go on to their way home, Laurent keeps on insisting the grandeur and glory of his idea of leading a bunch of fresh novices to his brother and sister while they try their best not to encourage him, continuously dramatizing with complementary hand gestures that sweep the air as if showing a slate with their names shining on it.

Meanwhile, as the townsfolk have subsided from the commotion, a mysterious shrouded figure walks into the scene of the carnage wrought by the Dorian siblings. While the siblings haven't gone from sight, this figure utters a single word that seems to have marked the mind.

"The Dorian children? Interesting."

* * *

-END-

**Author's Note:**

> Bonjour!
> 
> This was originally posted in my fanfiction.net but I figured that there might be AO3 readers [who presumably don't have or use fanfiction.net] who would like this. This is actually a 3-year-old fanfic that I just finished last July this year (2017, in case someone was reading it the year 2099).
> 
> So… is it okay? Or what…?
> 
> Anyways if I were to do the character customization based on my liking, Arno's three Brothers would obviously be the three other Assassins from the game's cover art. (You might wanna take your AC Unity game case or find it in Google Images to follow clearly) Octavien would be the guy wearing a green suit resembling the hue of the robes of Pierre Bellec. Siegfried would be the one wearing a tawny-yellowish robe and as noted he wields the heavy (or was that long-type?) weapon type. Lastly, Felix is the one holding the rifle and his robes are slightly the same shade/color/hue as Siegfried's (or based on your liking, the one holding an axe from the game's cover).
> 
> I'm using the Assassins from the cover art because to be honest… as much as I want to… I have never played any co-op mission ever so I cannot base Arno's brothers from any fellow gamer connected with me in the co-op because I never played it. Well, at least not yet. Whenever I play the game and come across a co-op mission, if it had the Play In Private option I would choose that instead.
> 
> Yes, I know. Lonely gamer problems.


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